Search On
by Clowns or Midgets
Summary: After 18 years, Dean and John have finally found Sam. They're working to rebuild the bonds that were stolen from them, but something threatens to tear them apart again. Sequel to Lost and Found
1. Chapter 1

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy. The fact you're willing to keep up with me and my crazy beta'ing needs lately means so much to me. You're really one in a million. Thank you Gredelina1 who was with me each step of the way with this story. This is as much yours as it is mine.**

 **Welcome to Part Two. The fact you've followed me far enough to open this chapter and are willing to give the rest of their tale a go is awesome. You were all so supportive for Lost and Found, and I only hope I won't disappoint you with this one.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter One**_

 _ **Previously…**_ _Dean reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out something small. He held it out and placed it in Sam's outstretched hand._

 _Sam turned it over, his eyes burning with tears again. "Is it the same one?" he asked._

 _"Yeah," Dean said. "I held onto it."_

 _Sam looked down at the plastic Thundercats toy in his hand and a tear slipped past his control and down his cheek. Dean had held onto it. For eighteen years, with their nomadic lifestyle, this piece of Sam had been kept, carried on Dean through what was probably an endless stream of motels and hunts._

 _Sam smiled. He had never really been completely lost._

* * *

 _ **Now…**_

Dean rolled the corpse of the werewolf into the roughly dug hole, tossed in a few handfuls of salt, and then moved back as Bobby splashed gasoline over it.

They had come to a small town outside Des Moines to take care of the creature the local newspaper was describing as a "scourge on the town." It transpired that the werewolf was a man that lived the rest of the month as a vagrant, getting his meals from the church-run soup kitchen and spending nights under the railroad bridge. He had killed five people that they knew of though, so there was nothing they could do but take him out.

"Light him up," Bobby instructed as he capped the gasoline tank and set it down next to the bag of salt.

Dean lit a book of matches and dropped it down onto the corpse. Flames roared up at once, and they both took a step back from the rush of heat.

Bobby held his hands over the flames to warm them and said conversationally, "Getting cold at night now."

"And there's nothing like a werewolf barbeque to warm your hands?" Dean suggested.

Bobby nodded seriously. "Exactly."

Dean shook his head and pulled his phone from his pocket. He checked the screen, but there were no notifications, so he stuffed it back in his pocket with a sigh.

"Waiting on a call from your sweetie?" Bobby asked.

"Dad," Dean replied.

"He okay?"

"I have no idea. He hasn't checked in for a few days."

"It's not the first time though, is it?"

"No," Dean admitted. "It's happening more and more lately. He's going days without calling."

Bobby frowned. "I thought you were happy to be taking cases alone now."

"I was," Dean said quickly. "I am. I just wish he'd let me know what he was doing, too."

When John had sat Dean down and floated the idea that they take separate cases, spread their skills around to save more people, Dean had been pleased. He'd felt like things were finally going right for them. John didn't need him there all the time as he had before they'd found Sam. He wasn't a wrecked man anymore. He was himself again.

Then John had handed over the keys to the Impala to Dean for good, having bought himself a secondhand truck to get around in, and driven away. Leaving Dean alone. The first time Dean had sat behind the wheel and known it was his car, he had been so proud. But now he had to admit that he would be happy going back to riding shotgun with John if it meant he would know what was happening with him.

"He's hiding stuff," he said grudgingly. "I don't even know what he's hunting right now. He's stopped talking to me the way he used to."

Bobby nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense."

"It does?"

"Yeah." Bobby scrubbed a hand through his beard. "He's back to how he was before Sammy was taken, isn't he?"

"I guess so. I don't know. He's like a different man."

"Actually, he's the same man," Bobby said. "You wouldn't remember, because you were too young, but your daddy always hunted like this before. We wouldn't know where he was from one week to the next most of the time. He would go weeks, sometimes months, without even checking in with any of us unless there was something he needed. He was the epitome of a loner in those days, playing everything close to his chest. It was only after Sammy that he opened up."

Dean nodded. He remembered that part, how often he would wake to find his father on the phone to someone in the dead of night, pleading for information on the Shtriga. Except that wasn't about being open; it was desperation that changed him.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders. "I don't like it," he said truculently,

"I don't imagine _you_ do," Bobby said.

Dean bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you spent the past eighteen years of your life taking care of your dad. Your role as his caretaker was set in stone the moment that Shtriga entered your room. You have taken care of him all this time, and suddenly he doesn't need it anymore."

"You think I want him messed up again?" Dean asked angrily.

"No," Bobby said calmly, unconcerned by Dean's anger. "But I think you're prepared for him to be. It's not your fault. You lived on a knife edge, waiting for him to break at any moment, and it became a part of you to live with that worry. Now the need has passed, but the fear hasn't. You've got to remember, though, that when he stops talking, it's not a sign of him being in trouble; it's another stage of him being well." He looked apologetic. "You're going to have to get used to it, Dean, as I don't see it changing anytime soon."

Dean knew he was right but it felt hard to accept. He was so hyperaware of John's moods and needs that it was going to take time for him to get used to the idea that he didn't need to be. A little communication wasn't too much to ask for though, was it? Just a call or text to let him know that he was okay.

"So," Bobby said in a bracing tone, "have you seen Sam lately?"

"Yeah," Dean said, his frown morphing into a wide smile. "I made a run by a couple weeks ago and spent some time with him and Jess."

He didn't have the words to explain how it had felt to spend that time with him, discovering some more of the details of Sam that he didn't yet know. It was little things, like the fact that Sam ran laps at the stadium track on Saturday mornings, or that he and Jessica liked to spend weekend afternoons in the parks dotted around the campus, joining casual games of soccer with other students and friends.

"How'd that go?" Bobby asked.

"Really good," Dean said enthusiastically. "He and Jess had just taken some crazy important test. They've been studying for it forever. Something to do with law school. So it was good to see them finally able to relax and think about something else. In fact, they should be getting their results soon."

"What are you planning next?" Bobby asked. "Got anything lined up I can tag along with?"

"No, I've not seen anything come over the wire. You?"

"Nothing. I figure I'll go by The Roadhouse, catch up with Bill and Ellen, see if there's anyone else needs help. You want to come?"

Dean knew he should probably line up his next hunt, too, but he thought of something that he would much rather do. "I think I'll go by Stanford and catch up with Sam and Jess since I'm close."

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Close? Dean, we're in Iowa."

Dean shrugged with a grin. "Close enough for me."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "You'd better get going then. I'll finish up here."

Dean clapped him on the shoulder. "Thanks, Bobby, I appreciate it."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure. Say hey to Sam for me."

"I will," Dean said, turning and striding toward where he had parked the Impala. He knew he should probably refuse Bobby's offer, stay and finish up properly, but he was on his way to his brother, so he couldn't find it in himself to care.

* * *

John's phone was ringing on the table, and Dean's name was displayed on the screen, but he didn't answer it. Instead, he waited for the voicemail to come in and dialed it up.

" _Hey, Dad. I've finished up the werewolf hunt with Bobby, so I'm heading to California to see Sam. Let me know if you want to join us."_

John sighed. He would like nothing more than to go spend some time with his boys, but he had more important things to do, like break this demon. He set his phone down on the table again and picked up the bottle of holy water again.

He turned back to the black-eyed monster trapped in the chair and smiled grimly. "Ready for some more?"

The demon smiled, revealing perfectly even teeth that must have cost a fortune in orthodontia. "Whenever you are, Winchester."

The demon had stolen the body of a kid that looked no older than Sam. His tan face and sun-bleached hair spoke of summers spent outside. John wondered who he had been before he had been taken over by this monster.

He stepped up to the edge of the devil's trap and swept the bottle through the air, splashing the demon with the water. His skin sizzled and he hissed a laugh through gritted teeth. "You think that'll break me?"

"I know it will," John said steadfastly.

"Who was the call from?" he asked. "Dean or… _Sammy_?"

"What do you know about Sam?" John asked, concealing his sudden, bitter interest with difficulty.

"I know _all_ about Sammy."

John upended the holy water over the demon's head, making him howl with pain. "Stop!"

Now they were getting somewhere. John had been working this demon for a long time, experimenting to find out what would work. Daniel had been all for going physical, but John didn't want to hurt the kid the demon was riding. Holy water was a good compromise. It hurt the demon like hell, but the kid should be fine.

He had been on the demons for a few weeks, since shortly after he'd said goodbye to Sam at Stanford and parted with Dean.

Daniel had told him they needed to talk alone when he'd bumped into him at The Roadhouse. He had seemed so intense that John had wasted no time in going to Colorado to see him as soon as he was alone.

Apparently, Daniel had caught a demon and during the process of exorcising it, it had begun to talk in hopes of getting a stay of execution. Daniel had got all he could out of it before sending it on home. In the process though, the demon had said things that greatly interested John, something about, _'Setting them women to burn."_

In the years John had been hunting, he had considered practically every possible cause for Mary's death. Demons had always been high on the list. This demon's slip made him sure that was the answer though. He didn't understand what a demon had been doing in his house that night though, or why it had killed Mary. What cause could she, the gentlest and most innocent person imaginable, give for it to kill her? He knew the answers had to be found so they could finally truly lay her to rest. He needed closure, more than ever now that they had avenged Sam's kidnapping, so he had settled in Daniel's basement with a demon and started questioning it.

He knew Dean would want to be a part of it, perhaps even deserved to be, but John couldn't risk him. It was too dangerous. He had finally gotten both his boys back and he would never allow them to be taken from him again. So he had sent Dean off alone, knowing he could handle himself against other creatures, and set out to find the information that would help him avenge his beloved wife.

He turned his attention back to the demon and said, "You can make it stop. All you have to do is tell me what I want to know, and I'll let you go."

"Lies," the demon hissed. "You will never let me go."

"Maybe not," John admitted. "But you can control just how much you hurt before you're sent on home." He splashed the demon with the flask again, almost lazily, and he cried out in pain. "Why was she killed?" he asked.

"I can't tell you! He will kill me."

John's interest tautened and he lowered the flask. "Who is 'He'?"

"What part of 'I can't tell you' don't you understand?"

John splashed him again. "The part where you're not talking."

The demon panted. "I don't know much."

John smiled grimly, excitement flickering to life in his chest. "Start with what you do know and we'll go from there."

The demon shook his head, sending droplets of water into the air. "I can't! You don't know what he'll do to me. Holy water is nothing compared to the things he's capable of."

John bent and picked up the bucket of holy water he'd been replenishing his flask from. John upended it over the demon's head, and he made a sound of agony John hadn't heard since Vietnam. "Care to rethink that?" he asked.

"The children," it howled. "It's all about the children. That's all I know!"

"What about the children?" An idea flashed through his mind, making him shiver. "Do you mean Sam?"

The demon nodded, the burning droplets still streaming down his cheeks like tears. "Sam is one of them!"

"One of who?"

"I don't know. All I know is that there's a bunch of them and they're important to him."

"You're lying," John said brutally. "You know more and you're going to tell me."

The demon shook his head. "I don't, I swear!"

John glowered at it. "We'll see about that." He walked away and carried the bucket up the wooden stairs.

"Where are you going? What are you doing?"

John didn't answer. He thought the anticipation of not knowing what was coming would be more motivational.

* * *

Sam heard the shower running when he walked into the bedroom, and he smiled as he threw himself down on the bed and closed his eyes. He was feeling peaceful and drowsy, and more than ready to settle in bed with the woman he loved and sleep.

Then something dripped on his face, something wet, one drop followed by another. He opened his eyes and they widened with horror at what he saw.

Jessica was on the ceiling above him. The stomach of her white nightgown was bloodied. Her eyes were fixed on him, and they were terrified.

"No!" he shouted.

Flames engulfed her and Sam felt the heat rush over his face, scorching him.

"Jess! No, Jess!" he bellowed. "Jess!"

He tried to get to his feet, but the heat of the fire had him pinned as the flames rushed overhead. They were going to consume the room and him, he knew, but he didn't care. With the first flicker of flame over Jessica, he had died, too.

Then he woke, sitting bolt upright. The cooler air of nighttime rushed into his lungs as he panted.

There was no fire. The room was dim and quiet, and Jessica was sleeping peacefully beside him.

He stroked finger over the curve of her cheek and whispered, "I'll never let anything hurt you, Jess. I promise."

Her eyes half opened and she said, "You okay, baby?"

"Yeah," Sam said quietly. "Go back to sleep."

She snuffled deeper into the pillow and her eyes drifted closed again.

Sam tried to calm his racing heart as he lie down again. He rolled onto his side and he leaned close to Jessica. "I love you," he whispered. "Don't ever leave me."

Jessica slept on, unaware of Sam's pleas or his fear.

* * *

 **So… What do you think? I know this one doesn't have the Sam/Dean/John interaction I am sure you want—I want it, too—but the rest of the story will make up for its absence here, I promise. There will be so much bonding you'll be sick of it.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for working the kinks out of this chapter for me and Gredelina1 for all your help.**

 **Thank you all for coming back with the last chapter. I was hoping that you'd continue with me, but sequels are notoriously less popular, and I worried that I'd lose a lot of you. Though this isn't really a sequel, it's the story continued and just posted separately so I could have a more appropriate summary and not make it a monster chapter count, I worried the sequel 'curse' would descend. I'm glad it didn't, because there is still so much more tale to be told.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Two**_

Dean arrived in Palo Alto early afternoon, and drove straight to Sam and Jessica's apartment, unwilling to waste time by booking into a motel first. He pulled up outside and cut the engine, looking around the small parking lot. There was no sign of Sam's Ford, which meant either he or Jess wasn't home. Or perhaps both.

Disappointed, he went inside and knocked on the door. He heard footsteps inside and then the door opened and Jessica was revealed on the threshold. Her face split into a wide smile as she saw him. "Dean!"

"Hey, Jess." Her obvious pleasure at seeing him made him happy. He'd never had a relationship like the one he had with Jessica before; she was like the kid sister he hadn't realized he'd needed. She was a good woman, perfect for Sam, and she was good to Dean and John, too.

She stepped back to let him enter and then, when he had crossed the threshold, she threw her arms around him in a tight hug. Dean laughed at her exuberance and she gripped him tighter before letting go.

"How are you?" she asked. "What have you been doing? Does Sam know you're coming? Is John here too?"

"Want to pick a question to start with?" Dean asked.

She grinned. "How are you?" she asked with genuine concern.

"I'm really good," he said. "I just finished a hunt and thought I'd make a pass by to see how you guys are doing. Sam doesn't know I'm coming—I thought I'd surprise him. And, no, I don't think Dad is coming. I called and let him know I was heading over here, but I haven't heard back yet." There was a trace of bitterness in his tone as he finished which made Jessica frown but he didn't elucidate.

"Well that's great. Sam has two surprises coming today!"

"He does?" Dean asked.

She nodded, and with an impish look, she walked into the living room and Dean followed. On the table were two official-looking envelopes beside a half-drunk cup of coffee. She picked them up and fanned them in front of her face. "Ask me what these are."

"What are they?" Dean obliged.

"Our futures," she said excitedly.

Dean frowned. "Yeah?"

"They're our LSAT scores," she said. "These will tell us whether we have a chance at law school."

"Oh, wow," Dean said.

"Yep. Wow," she said breathily. "They're everything." She gave a little shudder.

Dean was infected by her excitement. He saw what a big deal this was for her and Sam, and he tried to compare it to something he had experienced in his life. All he could think of was the moment he and John had first sat down in the park with Sam to talk. He remembered the thrill and terror of that moment, and it made him even more excited for them both.

"Where is Sam?" he asked.

"Class," she said, checking her watch. "He should be home soon though. You want a coffee?"

"I'd love one," he replied.

"You sit down, I'll be right back."

Dean took a seat on an armchair and looked around the room. He loved Sam and Jessica's place. It was what he thought a home should be—comfort and closeness. There were photos dotted around the place of Sam and Jessica together and people that must be Jessica's family. He spotted a new one, and he got to his feet and walked toward the shelf that it was on. It was positioned in pride of place at the front, and it had been enlarged from the copy Dean had given Jessica and framed in silver. It was John with Sam on his lap and Dean leaning against his side. The sight of it brought a lump to Dean's throat. Here they were, him and John, surrounded by photos of the other people Sam and Jessica cared about.

He swallowed hard as Jessica came back into the room. "Was this you?" he asked.

She shook her head, her eyes bright. "No, Sam. He sorted it all himself."

Pleasure warmed Dean's chest. Not only did he and John have a place now in Sam's home, they had been given it by Sam himself. He had enlarged the print, he had chosen the frame, and he had placed it there, right at the front.

Jessica set his coffee down on the table and sat. "We need to get a recent one of the three of you, too," she said. "As soon as you're all together again."

"Whenever that is," Dean said before he could stop himself.

"Trouble?" she asked.

"No. It's just Dad's taken off on his own lately, and he's not calling in as often as I'd like."

"That must be hard for you," she said.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "It is. He's okay, though, I'm sure. I just wish I knew where he was and what he was doing _while_ he was okay."

"I get that," she said. "I'm sure he will soon."

Dean nodded. Though, truthfully, he was doubting it.

He took his seat again and sipped his coffee. Jessica curled her legs under herself on the couch and picked up her mug. She tapped her fingers against the it and looked at him thoughtfully. Dean thought there was a question coming, but at that moment there were sounds of the front door opening and Sam's voice called, "Jess?"

"In here," she called back.

"Have you seen Dean?" he asked as his footsteps moved along the hall. "I saw the… Dean!" His face split into a wide smile as he came into the room and caught sight of him. "I didn't know you were coming."

Like Jessica, more intense even, was the burst of happiness he felt at Sam's reaction to his presence. That he had this reaction when a matter of months ago he had banished him from his hospital room, believing Dean was lying to him. He knew the truth now and he seemed happy with it. He always welcomed Dean and made him feel like he was someone important to him. It reminded him of those early years with his mom, when she would greet him every morning with that same expression, so happy to see him.

"Thought I'd surprise you," he said.

"It worked," Sam said. "This is great. How long can you stay?"

"Depends when the next hunt comes through, but hopefully a while," Dean said.

"Awesome." Sam turned his gaze to Jessica as she walked forward to greet him with a kiss. "How was your day?"

"It was okay," she said carefully, her eyes lit with excitement. "We got mail."

"Yeah," Sam said, sounding only half interested.

Jessica picked up the envelopes from the table and handed them to him. "Yeah."

Sam glanced down at them and his eyes bugged. He inhaled in a gasp. "Oh God! They're here."

"Yeah, they are," Jessica said, her voice pitched higher than usual.

Sam's hands shook as he stared at the envelope. "I can't open it," he said. "I'm too scared."

"Me too," she admitted with a laugh.

"Why don't you open each other's?" Dean suggested.

"You open them," Sam said, holding them out to Dean.

"What? Me! No. This is something you should do. It's important."

"Exactly," Sam said. "I want you to do it."

"Me too," Jessica said.

Dean stood and took the envelopes, trying to control his tremors. He was holding his brother's future in his hands and he was nervous. This had to go right.

He tucked one under his arm and slid his finger under the flap of the second. He pulled out the sheet of paper and read down the page. "Jessica Moore." Jessica grabbed Sam's hand and squeezed it. "You scored 165."

Jessica squealed and Sam whooped as she jumped into his arms. He spun her around and laughter broke over her in waves. As Sam lowered her to her feet, she swayed and he steadied her with a hand at her back. She kissed him fully on the mouth and Sam returned it with passion.

Dean laughed, riding high on the palpable excitement in the room.

When they parted, Dean held out her letter to her and she took it in a shaking hand. "Oh my God," she whispered.

"That's good, right?" Dean asked with a grin.

"Really good," Sam said enthusiastically, turning to Jessica. "I'm so proud of you."

She beamed at him. "Your turn now."

Sam looked nervous as he fixed his eyes on Dean and nodded. "I'm ready." He sounded as if he was bracing himself for failure.

Dean tore open the second envelope, feeling a buzz of nerves in his chest. He could face off with werewolves and ghosts, but this scared him. It mattered so much to Sam so it mattered to him, too. He wanted his brother to have the best of everything available to him, including education.

He read down the page and he felt his face drain of color. "So," he said, his voice cracking, "if 165 is good, 174 is better, right?"

Sam snatched the letter out of his hand. He read as if he wasn't sure what he was seeing was real. Dean suddenly panicked. What if it wasn't a good score after all? He had no idea how these things worked. It could be graded in descending order.

"Sam!" Jessica screamed.

Sam held it out to her, looking stunned. She read it with wide and wet eyes and then threw it into the air and jumped into his arms again.

"Oh my God! Oh my God!" she gasped.

"It's good?" Dean asked.

Jessica released Sam and beamed at Dean. "It's good," she said. "It's scary good."

Sam laughed shakily and then did something that stunned Dean as much as it thrilled him. He stepped forward and threw his arms around Dean. He clung to him for a moment, thumped his back and then pulled away. "Thank you, Dean," he said breathlessly.

"I didn't do anything," Dean said quickly.

"You did," Sam said emphatically. "You saved my life, twice. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have been here to take the test at all."

Dean grinned. He wasn't sure it was right to, but he did feel a surge of pride for his part of it, however small. It was almost completely eclipsed by his pride in Sam and Jessica though. They had worked their asses off for this, and now they were reaping their rewards.

"We need drinks!" Jessica announced, tottering into the kitchen on unsteady legs. She came back with a bottle of champagne in her hands and three glasses. "Mom and Dad sent this yesterday," she explained. "I need to call them!"

Sam laughed. "You do that. I'll fix the drinks."

Jessica grabbed her phone from the table and dialed quickly as she walked back into the kitchen. Dean heard her saying, "Mom? It's me. I did it! 165! Can you believe it?"

He addressed Sam again as he set the glasses down on the table and popped the cork of the bottle. "You should call Dad?"

"You think he'd want me to?" Sam asked.

"I'm sure he would," Dean said, dialing the number and handing over his phone.

Sam smiled sheepishly as he set the bottle down and lifted the phone to his ear. "Voicemail," he said, sounding disappointed. "Uh, hey, John. It's Sam. I, uh, got my results today, and I'd really like to talk to you, so call when you can." He ended the call and handed it back to Dean.

"Bathroom," Dean said, keeping his tone neutral as he tucked the phone back in his pocket. He closed the door behind him and pulled the phone out. He dialed and spoke in a growl as voicemail instructed him to leave a message. "It's me. I don't know what you're doing, but Sam did something great today, and you need to be a part of it. Call when you get this."

* * *

Sam was reeling and more than a little drunk. They had moved from champagne at the house to beers at Scotty's and eventually shots. The evening started out quiet, with only the usual early crowd in the bar, but quickly became more rowdy as people arrived, costumed and ready to celebrate Halloween.

There were others who were celebrating LSAT results and only a few drowning sorrows. He guessed most of those that hadn't done as well as they'd hoped were drinking at home, unwilling to be around the celebrations.

He had been sure that he would have been one of them, drowning sorrows while outwardly celebrating Jessica's triumph. He'd not imagined he'd pass, let alone pass so well. With all the turmoil of recent months coming in the middle of his revision time, he'd thought this round of testing was doomed. But it hadn't been. He had the best results he could have hoped for. The world of law school was open to him. When he had a chance to come down from the high and sober up, he'd have to arrange some interviews.

He thought he had a decent chance at getting a place at Stanford. Jessica might not though with her score, and he didn't want to be parted from her. Maybe she would get in. She had a great GPA and her recommendations would be so much better than Sam's. If not, they would find somewhere to study together. It would work out.

"More shots!" Brady announced suddenly, breaking into Sam's thoughts.

"Yes!" Sam agreed enthusiastically.

Jessica and Dean laughed at him, and he grinned in return. He wasn't usually a big drinker, but it was a special occasion; he was celebrating.

They walked to the bar and Brady nudged his elbow as they waited to get the bartender's attention. "So, Mr. LSAT, how does it feel to have the world in the palm of your hand?" he asked.

Sam smiled. "I wouldn't say that…"

"I call bullshit. You did good and you know it," Brady argued.

"It feels good," Sam admitted. "Real good."

Brady clapped him on the shoulder. "That's what I'm talking about! You, my friend, are destined for great things."

The bartender, a man that looked to be in his thirties with tattoos curling from his sleeves and peeking from the neck of his shirt, came to them and asked, "What can I get you?"

"Shots!" Brady shouted.

The man raised an eyebrow, looking decidedly unamused.

"Tequila, please," Sam said, doing a quick headcount of his group. "Ten."

The man lined up the small glasses on a tray and ran the bottle over them, filling each glass. Brady rooted in his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills and handed it to the bartender. He pulled off three bills and handed the rest back. "Take it easy, kids," he said as he put the money into the register.

Sam was swaying slightly so he let Brady—who seemed surprisingly steady for his state of inebriation—carry the tray back to their group. "Tequila," he shouted, and hands descended on the tray to take a glass.

Sam took his own and one for Dean, who was standing back a little from the group, and handed it to him. "Drink up," he said happily.

Dean raised his glass in a salute and then knocked it back.

Sam imitated him and gasped as it hit the back of his throat. "Whoa!" he said.

Dean laughed. "You didn't get the Winchester drinking genes then?"

Sam shook his head and then stopped as it made his vision swim. "I never really drink more than beer usually. You and John drinkers?"

Dean snorted. "You could say that. Dad used to drink a lot when you were… you know."

"Gone?" Sam asked. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be gone."

"I know," Dean said, plucking the empty glass from his hand and setting it on the bar. "None of it was your fault, Sam."

Sam bobbed his head. "I know. It was all _his…_ " He trailed off, not sure of what it was he wanted to say and suddenly feeling morose at the mention of James.

"It was," Dean agreed. "But it's over now."

"Yeah, it is," Sam said, his mood switching back to happy again with speed only alcohol could provide. "I got you back. Best damn brother there is."

Dean's eyes widened and his lips parted.

Sam frowned at him. "You okay?"

"Yeah!" Dean smiled again. "I'm great."

Someone pushed another shot into Sam's hand, and he knocked it back and then frowned at the sickly sweet-taste registered. "What the hell was that?"

"Looked like a cocktail of some sort. It was pink."

Sam grimaced and Dean laughed.

The door opened and Sam cheered as he saw Becky and Zach enter. Zach walked straight to him while Becky greeted Jessica. Sam guessed Jessica was sharing her results as Becky squealed and embraced her.

"I'm guessing the results were good then," Zach said.

"Yeah," Sam said excitedly. "I can't remember what they are right now, but I know they're good."

Zach laughed. "I'm sure they were. Hi… uh…"

"Dean!" Sam said. "This is my brother, Dean! Best damn brother in the world. He taught me to swim, you know."

Zach held out a hand to Dean and they shook. "Good to meet you, Dean. I've heard a lot about you."

"You have?"

"Yeah, more than just your prowess as a swimming teacher, too. Sam said you and your dad are freelance reporters. What's that like?"

"It's interesting," Dean said. "You never know where a story is going to lead next."

"He helps people," Sam said emphatically.

"Oh, of course," Zach said with dawning realization. "You're the one that found Sam when those psychos snatched him?"

"That's me," Dean said.

"Hero," Sam said seriously.

Dean looked uncomfortable and Sam guessed he was worried that he was about to blow his cover as a hunter. He imitated zipping his lips and grinned as Zach looked confused.

"C'mon, big man," Dean said. "Let's get you another drink."

Dean led him to the bar and gestured to the bartender. "You are you know," Sam said seriously, trying to focus at him.

"I am what?" Dean asked.

"The best brother," Sam said.

Dean grinned. "You too, Sam. You too."

* * *

 **So… I told you there would be fluff. I loved writing this scene. There are many heartfelt moments in this story, but this is one of my favorites. Dean needed to hear it, and Sam needed to say it.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for fixing this up for me. Thank you also Gredelina1 for helping me with the outline and approving each you all for reading, reviewing and supporting the story.  
**

 **This chapter is for SPN Mum. She's awesome and always brings a smile to my face whenever we talk. Much love hon x**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Three**_

John didn't call. Instead, he drove through the night and most of the next day, catching a few hours' sleep at a rest stop and arriving in Palo Alto in the early evening. He drove straight to the motel he had used when he was in town before and booked in, then he cleaned up and went over to Sam's apartment. The Impala was parked beside Sam's car, and he brought the truck to a stop by them and climbed out.

He was excited to see his boys, especially to hear Sam's results. He knew Sam and Jess had been due to take their LSATs, and after a little research online he'd discovered they were a pretty huge deal for law school. Sam hadn't sounded upset in his call, and Dean had said 'something great' so he was fairly sure the results were good. He was looking forward to celebrating with them all.

He took a breath before knocking on Sam's door. He heard laughter approaching and then Sam opened the door. "John!" he said, his eyes wide with surprise and what John thought was happiness.

"Hey, Sam," he said.

Sam stepped back and gestured him in. "We didn't know you were coming. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," John soothed. "I just wanted to hear your news in person."

Sam led him into the lounge where Dean and Jessica were lolling on the couch and an armchair, bottles of beer in hand. Jessica stood to greet him with a wide smile and surprise like Sam, whereas Dean stayed seating, looking guarded. John had expected a little static from his eldest because of his evasiveness lately, but he hoped Dean would keep it to himself until they were alone. He didn't want Sam dragged into the tension.

"Would you like a drink?" Jessica asked him.

"I'll take a coffee if that's okay," he replied.

Jessica grinned. "We have a fresh pot. Been keeping it stocked for Sam."

Dean laughed and Sam waved it away. "Yeah, yeah."

As John looked, he saw Sam sit down on the couch and sip a cup of coffee. Wondering what the story was there, he took a seat in the second armchair and leaned forward. "So, how did it go?"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Jessica called from the kitchen. "I'm coming. Wait for me."

Sam smiled as Jessica rushed back into the room and handed John his coffee then threw herself onto the couch beside Sam. He slipped an arm around her shoulders and she relaxed against him.

"Okay, now you can tell him," she said.

"Well, Jess knocked it out of the park with a 165," Sam started.

"Jess, that's brilliant," John said effusively, knowing her score was impressive from his research. "Really."

She smiled widely. "Thanks, John. But I'm not the big news here. That would be Sam with his 174!"

John gaped. He'd been told how smart his boy was, and he'd seen that when he was a child, but that was a hell of a score. "Sam," he said, awed. "That's…"

Sam's cheeks reddened. "Yeah," he said quietly. "It's okay."

"It's more than that," John said. "That gives you anywhere, right?"

He'd been looking up scores and admittance requirements when he'd been learning what the LSAT was, and he realized now that Sam had the kind of score that would allow him to pick practically any college.

"Yep," Jessica said proudly. "He's got the world."

Sam ducked his head into her hair, obviously embarrassed.

"Kid's a damn genius," Dean said, leaning across and slapping Sam's arm.

John saw the closeness between them and wondered what he had missed in their last two visits without him that made Dean so comfortable around him. He wished that he had been there, too, but he reminded himself that he had been doing important things. Questioning the demons had given him information on the thing that had killed Mary, and perhaps some link to Sam to be investigated.

"We need to celebrate," he said. "Drinks or dinner?"

Sam groaned. "No drinks."

Dean laughed again and seeing John's confusion, he explained. "We went out celebrating last night with some of Sam's friends. Sam had a little too much to drink."

Jessica snorted. "Little?"

"A lot," Dean corrected. "He drank so much he thought he could dance all the way home." His face split into a huge grin. "He pirouetted right into a dumpster."

John laughed loudly, and Sam shook his head. "It's not my fault that I apparently didn't inherit Winchester drinking genes."

"You can lay that on Mary," John said. "She couldn't hold more than a couple beers at a time."

Sam eyes lit up. "Yeah?"

John smiled as nostalgia hit. "We'd go to baseball games sometimes, and she'd insist on a hot dog and beer. One was fine, but much more than that and she'd need helping out of her seat. Don't think she ever tried to pirouette home though."

They laughed, Sam included, and John felt a rush of happiness in the moment. Here he was, enjoying something he'd thought impossible a matter of months ago. Even after they'd found Sam again, and had their first meeting, he never imagined they would reach this place, where they could all talk and be relaxed together.

"So how are we going to celebrate?" Jessica asked.

"Dinner?" Sam suggested. "We could go out or I can make something."

Dean perked up. "Steak?" he asked hopefully.

"Do you like anything healthy?" Sam asked curiously.

Dean shrugged. "Steak can be healthy, too. Right? I think so anyway. If we don't have fries…" His tone became wheedling.

John was shocked at this side of his son. He hadn't seen it in so long, and to see it coupled with his brother was so satisfying. He realized that it wasn't just Sammy that had been lost. John had been lost in grief and despair, forcing Dean to become the responsible one in their relationship. His childhood had been lost, and some of this lightness he was showing now. If it had been there, John hadn't seen it. He had missed out on as much with Dean he had Sam.

Sam looked at Jessica and grinned as she nodded eagerly.

"Steak it is then," Sam said. "I'll need to make a run by the store though."

Dean leapt to his feet. "I'll come with you."

"Sure, but I'm choosing the steaks. I'm not letting you buy a slab of cholesterol disguised as beef."

"Would I do that?"

Sam eyed him for a moment. "Yes, I think you would."

Sam kissed Jessica goodbye, waved to John and the two of them went out into the hall and through the door, leaving laughter in their wake.

Jessica watched them go and then relaxed back in her seat. "How've you been?" she asked. "Dean said you're hunting apart now."

"Yeah. It seemed better to spread our skills now I'm in a better position."

"He didn't seem too happy about it."

John raised an eyebrow. "He didn't?" He'd thought Dean would love the chance to take point on his own hunts now.

"No. I think he misses you."

John sighed. He knew he was neglecting Dean to an extent by not answering his calls, but he'd not thought it would be that big of an issue for him really. He needed to talk to him, make him understand.

"I'll fix it," he assured her.

She nodded and smiled and John realized Sam wasn't the only one that had developed a good relationship with Dean now.

"Sam's doing well though, isn't he?" he said. "He knocked it out of the park with that score, and he seems to be in a better place regarding James."

"He is," she agreed. "He doesn't talk about him anymore, and the Oregon house has sold, so that's one less thing to deal with. But he's not…" She bit her lip.

"What?" John asked, worry creeping in.

"I'm not sure," she said carefully. "He's not sleeping right. He wakes me up in the middle of the night sometimes talking, and he's really tired in the mornings. He won't talk to me about it though, which worries me as Sam's a talker; he's always talked to me about everything."

"How long's it been going on?"

"Pretty much since school started again. It's getting gradually worse."

"Do you want me to try talking to him?" he asked. "He might open to me, as an outsider of the situation."

"You're not an outsider," Jessica said quickly.

"In some ways I am. He's my son, but I'm not his dad again yet, not the way Dean is his brother. We're not at the place, at least not for him. For me, I love him as much as I did the day he was born. He's going to need a little longer to get there."

Jessica nodded thoughtfully. "He called Dean his brother for the first time yesterday. I don't think he realized what a big deal it was for Dean, he was drunk off his ass the first time, but he's said it since to me. It's like he's testing out the word. Getting used to it again."

John wished he was at that point, too. He wished more than almost anything that Sam would call him dad again. He had told Dean once that he'd lost his little boy, and he had. He would never get him back. But he had a grown son now that he wanted to be a dad to.

He thought it was easier for him to accept Dean as a brother as he hadn't been able to remember having one. He could remember having a father, though, and even though it had been a monster, it had been a monster that loved him, which meant Sam had to make peace with the truth of James completely before he could move on with John. He would have to be patient.

"That's good," he said. "It'll make Dean very happy."

She nodded. "If you can talk to him, though, I'd appreciate it."

"Of course. Anything he needs. You too, Jess. You only have to call."

"Thanks," Jessica said with a small smile. "I'll make sure Sam knows, too."

* * *

After a delicious meal and another couple hours of conversation, Dean and John headed back to the motel. Dean didn't have a room booked, as he'd crashed the night before on Sam's couch, but John had gotten a double so they shared.

It had been a good evening spent together, but as John closed their door behind him and threw his jacket onto the back of the chair, Dean felt his annoyance rising again. He had pushed it down with Sam and Jessica, as it had felt important to keep things even between them there for Sam and Jessica's sake. Now that they were alone, he wanted some answers.

John seemed to sense the tension as he turned and sighed. "Go on then, Dean. Say what you need to."

"What the hell, Dad?" he asked. "You don't answer my calls, you ignore my voicemails, and then you turn up like nothing happened."

"Would you rather I didn't come?" John asked mildly.

"No! I'd rather have known you were coming. Sam left that message yesterday and you don't roll in until a day later."

"I left as soon as I could. I was in Colorado."

"But you couldn't call?" Dean asked. "We thought you were ignoring us, ignoring Sam's message." He breathed in hard. "You can ignore me if you like, I can handle that, but you can't ignore Sam. He deserves better. We just got him back. "

"I know," John said, his tone defeated. "I shouldn't have ignored either of you, both of you deserve better from me. But I was working."

"Me too," Dean said, his father's defeat lessening none of his ire. "But I found time to call you _and_ visit Sam."

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"I was worried about you," Dean said. "Anything could have happened, and I wouldn't have known. I couldn't have helped you."

"I don't need monitoring now, Dean," John said a little irritably. "I'm not broken anymore. I can handle myself."

Dean's hands clenched into tight fists. "I know that! God, I know that! And I am grateful, but there are other ways for a man to be broken than emotionally. You could have been hurt."

"I wasn't. And I wasn't alone. I've been with Daniel Elkins."

Dean glowered. "So, you'll talk to him but not me? If you needed backup, why not call me?"

"Because…" John sighed. "I was working on something big."

"And I couldn't be trusted to help?" Dean bit out. "I have been there with you every step of the way for the past eighteen years. Why am I suddenly not good enough?"

John shook his head dolefully. "You are. I'm sorry I've made you feel like you weren't. But I was scared. I didn't want you involved as I didn't want you hurt. Like you say, we just got Sammy back. I couldn't risk losing you, too."

Dean frowned. Whatever John was working on, it was more than big; it was huge with huge risks. Why else would he have left Dean out after all their years working together? He knew Dean was good. He had the skills and control to be an asset.

"What's this about, Dad?" he asked, his tone softening slightly.

John's lips pressed into a thin, contemplative line. "I'm not sure," he said carefully.

"I think you are," Dean argued.

"I'm not," John said. "I don't know anything for certain."

"You've got to give me more," Dean begged.

"I will when I can. I'm sorry, Son. I know that's not what you want to hear, but when I can be sure it's time, I will tell you and Sam."

"Sam?" Dean said, confused and then his eyes widened. "This is about Mom, isn't it?"

"It might be. I don't know anything for sure yet. I will tell you when I can."

Dean ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He deserved better than this. He had earned better. But then John said, "I'm worried about Sam," and all other thoughts were banished.

"Why? What's wrong with him?"

John eased back a chair from the table and sat down, waiting pointedly for Dean to do the same. Dean didn't want to sit. He wanted to pace out his anxiety, but he knew his father wouldn't talk until he did, so he sat down heavily and leaned forward. "What's going on?"

"Jess said he's not sleeping right. She's worried about him."

Dean nodded, remembering a noise and voices in the night that had woken him. He'd assumed it was Sam and Jessica being a couple, so he'd covered his head with a pillow and gone back to sleep, but now he wasn't so sure.

"How long?" he asked.

"A while now. He's not talking to her about it."

"We should try," Dean said quickly. "It might be easier for him to admit something to us than her."

"I said I would," John said. He looked like he wanted to add something, but he didn't.

"We'll get him alone tomorrow," Dean said. "I'll lure him out for a run or something and you can meet us there."

"You run?" John asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I run all the time," Dean said defensively.

"Yeah, from or towards monsters," John said reasonably. "This will be a little different."

"How?" Dean asked. "It's all the same muscles, right?"

John nodded. "Yes. You're right. It's exactly the same."

Dean thought he was being humored, but he didn't care. He was going to get Sam away from Jessica tomorrow and he was going to find out what was going on and how he could fix it. He was the big brother; that was what he was supposed to do.

* * *

Sam was up first the next morning. He left Jessica in bed and went into the kitchen to put the coffee on. He hadn't slept well and was feeling slow and confused. He thought he'd skip running and make Jessica a nice breakfast instead. He was rooting through the fridge for the blueberries he knew he had bought, thinking of pancakes, when it occurred to him John and Dean might like a homemade breakfast, too. He dialed Dean's number and tucked the phone under his chin as he pulled a mixing bowl out of the cupboard and set it on the counter.

" _Sam!"_ his surprised voice answered. _"I was just about to call you."_

"I saved you the job," Sam said. "What did you need?"

" _I thought I could join you on your run,"_ Dean said.

"You, running?" Sam asked before he could stop himself.

" _I run,"_ Dean said, and Sam thought he could hear John's laugh in the background.

"Actually, I was going to skip it this morning," Sam said.

" _Oh. Then how about something else?"_ Dean asked. _"I've never tried a Betsy's breakfast. We could meet there and get something good to bring back to Jess."_

Sam frowned. It seemed to him that Dean wanted to see _him_ more than he wanted to actually run or get breakfast. "Is everything okay?" he asked.

" _Yeah, fine. I just wanted to spend a little time together, you, me and Dad."_

The idea appealed to Sam, too, and he agreed, "Sure. I'll meet you at Betsy's."

" _Great,"_ Dean said. _"I'll see you there."_

Sam stuffed the phone into his pocket and went back into the bedroom. Jessica was still sleeping peacefully, so he grabbed some clothes from the closet and quietly dressed. He left a note for her by the coffee pot telling her where he was, and slipped out of the apartment.

It wasn't far from their place to Betsy's so he walked. When he got there he saw Dean and John sitting at a booth with coffees in front of them. Sam went and slid into the booth beside John and looked from serious face to serious face.

"Okay, what's going on?" he asked.

"We'd like to talk to you," John said in measured voice that made Sam worry.

"What's wrong?"

"That's what we're wondering," Dean said. "Jess said you're not sleeping, and we thought you might want to talk about it with someone."

Sam sighed. He knew Jessica had noticed his nightmares, as she had tried to broach the topic, but he hadn't expected her to recruit John and Dean in her place when he'd not talked. Perhaps this would be easier though. He couldn't tell Jessica he was having nightmares of her being killed on the ceiling, but he could tell them.

He drew a breath and said, "I've been having nightmares. I've actually been having weird dreams since we went to see Missouri, old memories surfacing, and they were okay, sometimes good, but this other dream…." He trailed off with a shudder.

"What do you see?" Dean asked, concern in his voice.

"Jess," Sam said quietly enough that they leaned forward to hear him. "I see her die."

John and Dean exchanged a worried glance as Sam went on.

"It's just like the way you told me Mary died. I come home and I hear the shower running, so I think she's there. I lie down on the bed, and then something drips on my face. Two drops. I look up and she's there, pinned on the ceiling. Her stomach all bloody." He winced. "Then the fire comes. It rushes out from her, taking over the room. I can't move, I don't even want to move. I just lay there, watching her burn, and that's when I wake up."

He let out a shaky breath as he finished. He actually felt a little better having shared the nightmare. He'd been bottling it up for weeks, dealing with the anxiety the best he could. He felt he had spread the fear but also the pressure now.

"It's always exactly the same?" John asked, while Dean scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Every single detail," Sam said. "I'm watching her die almost every night." He fought back another shudder.

John nodded thoughtfully.

"It has to be Missouri, right?" he said hopefully. "She pulled the threads, and it got confused with the story you told me about how Mary died. I mean, they're almost exactly the same."

"It could be," John said.

Dean's eyes darted to him. "Dad?"

John shook his head, still with that thoughtful expression on his face. "It's just a dream," he said eventually. "You're right. It's so close to how your mother died, that it has to be, but we need to keep you as safe as possible anyway. We should have done it sooner—laid protections in place. I don't know why we didn't think of it already. Salt lines and devil's traps for sure. We'll leave you some weapons, too. You won't need them," he added in response to Sam's stricken expression. "But I'll feel better knowing you have some?" He framed it as a question.

Sam nodded. "Okay. Whatever you need to do."

Dean eyed his father suspiciously. "Devil's traps," he said.

"Yes," John said in a decisive voice. "And anything else you can think of."

Dean seemed to be waging some internal battle. He eventually nodded though, and addressed Sam. "It'll be okay, Sam. We'll take care of it. You'll both be safe."

Sam smiled and thanked them, but he suddenly didn't feel so confident. They were just dreams, but what other dangers could there be that he and Jessica needed to be protected from?

* * *

 **So… They know about the dreams. They're halfway to stopping them already now, right. The next chapter has a big step for Sam, some big bonding, and some big drama.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you Jenjoremy for working your magic on this for me. It's so very appreciated. Thank you Gredelina1 for indulging my newfound love of fluff and familiar love of drama. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.**

 **I am heading to Sweden on Wednesday to see Gredelina1 and there's Xmas before, so I might not be able to reply to reviews individually as I usually do. I will do my best, but if I miss you, know I am so grateful to you all. Much love and Happy Holidays xxx**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Four**_

Sam looked at the symbol being brushed onto his living room floor in bright red paint, and he wondered how this had become his life. Was it possible that only six months ago he was living a relatively carefree life, innocent to the real dangers of the world? He'd had what he thought was the greatest father; he had an amazing girlfriend; and the biggest worries in his world were finals, the LSATs and whether Brady was ever going to settle down and make the most of his education instead of partying it up all hours.

They were good worries to have, normal worries, _safe_ worries, but he would not want to go back to that time. It had been a lie. His 'great father' was a monster that had tried to kill him. He hadn't even met John and Dean, and he had no memories of his life before James at all. This, monsters and all, was his real life and it was the one he wanted as it gave him both Jessica and his real family.

"You okay, Sam?" Dean asked, looking up at him from where he knelt with the paintbrush in his hand.

"Yeah," he said, jerking out of his head. "I'm fine."

Dean frowned. "It's a lot, I know. If you and Jess want to head out while we do this, you can come back later and we'll explain it all."

"No, that's okay. I should be a part of it. I need to understand it." He drew a breath. "So, this is a devil's trap?"

Dean leaned back on his haunches and said, "Yeah. It traps demons inside. They can't get out of it unless you let them free by breaking the trap. We use it to hold them while we exorcise them."

Sam swallowed down the news that demons were actually real and said, "And how do you exorcise them?"

"There's some Latin you have to recite," Dean said. "I'll fix you up with it before we go."

"Me too," Jessica said from the doorway. When Sam looked up she held up a paintbrush and said, "One devil's trap laid right inside the front door. As soon as it's dry, we'll throw the doormat over it."

"Awesome," Dean said. "And yeah, we'll have you both hooked up with the exorcism before we go anywhere."

Jessica had been surprisingly cool about the whole thing. Though Sam guessed he should have known she would be; Jessica was always cool. He hadn't told her about his dream still, as he didn't want her scared, but he'd admitted he was worried, and she'd been more than willing to let Dean and John set up some protection for them.

Dean painted in the last line of the trap and stood. "Okay. Let that dry and you can lay a rug or something over it. It'll save you having to explain to your buddies that you've embraced Satanism."

Jessica laughed and Sam forced a smile.

John came into the living room with a can of salt in his hand and said, "I've salted the windows. That's something you'll need to keep up. Check the lines every day, make sure they're not broken, and top them up."

"What does the salt do?" Sam asked.

"Repels demons," John replied.

"And ghosts," Dean added.

"Yeah, ghosts too," John agreed. "Demons can't cross a line of salt, and it burns them if they touch it, kinda like acid. You can load a shotgun with salt rounds and it makes a nice weapon to use on them. Iron works, too. They can't pass over an iron line either, and it hurts them like a son of a bitch. But if you want to really hurt them, you use holy water. You get enough of that splashing in their face, they become really pliant."

Dean shot him a sharp look, which John seemed not to notice as he went on.

"I'll teach you both how to bless the water."

"You don't need to be a priest?" Sam asked.

"No. You just need a rosary and the right blessing." He glanced down at the trap painted on the floor and said, "Nice work, neat. You two come with me. Dean, can you get a couple of the spare rosaries out of the trunk?"

"Sure," Dean said, walking out of the room.

John reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a thick leather book. He flipped it open, turned a couple pages and then nodded. "This here's the exorcism. You kids have a scanner and printer?"

"Yeah," Jessica said.

John unclipped the page and held it out to her. "Make a few copies. Maybe keep one on you."

She nodded and carried it into the den where the PC was set up.

John lowered his voice. "Are you okay, Sam?"

"Yeah. I mean, no, this is all scary as hell, and I hate that it's necessary, but if it will keep Jessica safe, it's worth it."

"It's going to keep you _both_ safe," John corrected. "And it's probably not necessary, but it's the kind of protection all hunters have laid down."

"That's it though, right?" Sam asked. "This is just normal protection. It's nothing to do with my dream."

"It's normal," John said. "Don't worry, Sam. It'll be fine. This is just going to set my mind at ease."

Sam breathed a sigh of relief. He was probably worried over nothing, but the dream and his newly re-decorated home had made him realize just how dangerous Dean and John's world was, and that he was apparently now a part of it.

* * *

Dean wanted to question John about the demon repelling nature of the protections they'd laid down at Sam's place, but he didn't have a chance to talk to his father alone all day. Sam and Jessica were there all time. Even when Jessica left to go to a study group with some of their friends, Sam opted to stay home to spend time with them. Dean was pleased to be able to spend time with him, but he wished for even a minute to talk to his dad alone.

He could hear Sam in the hall, saying goodbye to Jessica as she left and he tried to catch John's eye, but he was studiously looking through his journal and avoiding Dean's gaze.

Sam came back into the room then, his expression tense and his eyes bright.

"What's up?" Dean asked.

"I want to go shopping," he announced. "And I'd like you both to come with me."

Surprised by the random announcement and trying to work out what it was about shopping that had him looking like that, Dean said, "Okay," slowly.

"Awesome," Sam said with a short laugh. "Just need to get something." He ducked into the bedroom for a moment and came back tucking something into his pocket. "Ready?"

John and Dean exchanged a confused glance before they nodded and got to their feet. Stepping carefully over the still tacky trap by the door, they went outside to the cars.

"My car?" Dean asked, and Sam redirected his steps toward the Impala without complaint.

They climbed in, Sam taking the backseat, and Dean brought the engine to life. He pulled out of his spot and turned them onto the road.

"Where are we heading?" he asked.

"The mall," Sam said.

Dean looked back at him through the rearview mirror. His cheeks were flushed with color and his eyes still had that unnatural brightness.

"You really meant _shopping_ shopping?" he asked doubtfully.

"Yep," Sam said easily.

Shrugging, Dean turned left and headed along the road. The drive to the mall was short, and soon Dean was pulling into the parking lot and finding a space.

He hated malls. He would happily take on a dozen werewolves in succession rather than visit one. The bright lighting gave him a headache, and the people that jostled past him like charging rhinos, always in search of their next big bargain, pissed him off. He had never even seen his father in one before, so he knew this was going to be an interesting afternoon. He couldn't work out why Sam would want them to visit one with him either. He didn't seem the mall rat type.

He was apparently excited though. He strode through the doors with the look of a man on a mission. Dean and John followed, bemused as he weaved through people and went straight toward a jewelry store.

He hesitated outside the window and looked at the artfully lit offerings on a silk cushion. Dean stood beside him and followed his gaze to the selection of rings Sam was staring at with intensity. "So, what are we looking for?"

"A ring," Sam said with satisfaction.

"They're pretty," Dean said, feeling stupid.

"Sam…" John said in an awed tone. Dean turned to him and saw that his eyes were wide with shock and his lips slightly parted. "Really?"

Sam nodded, beaming.

"What?" Dean asked, looking between the jewelry and Sam's excited face with dawning realization. "Whoa!"

"Yeah," Sam said proudly. "I'm going to propose."

John's smile stretched wide across his face. "Sam, that's fantastic!"

"It's time," Sam said. "I've got my LSAT scores now, so I know I've got something to offer her. I've got a future; we both have one. She's all I want; she's everything. I love her and want to be with her forever."

John rubbed a hand over his face, his eyes suddenly sad.

"You think I'm too young?" Sam asked, his voice mild.

"No," John said. "I was thinking how much I wish Mary could be a part of this."

Sam nodded. "I know. But you are, both of you. I need help. I've never done this before."

Dean huffed a laugh. "Me either."

"But you have," Sam said, turning to John. "Will you help me?"

"I'd be happy to," John said in a slightly hoarse voice.

"I don't have a fortune to spend," he said quickly.

Dean frowned. He was pretty sure he did. He'd seen the Oregon house, and it was worth serious money. Sam had inherited it all from James, he knew, so why was he struggling now?

"I've only got my own money," Sam said, apparently seeing Dean's confusion. "I don't want _his_ money to have any part of this. I will use it for school, because my only other option is to take a scholarship away from someone that really needs it. But me and Jess, he has no place in us."

"I understand," John said somberly. "Let's see what they have."

He took the lead into the store and Sam followed. Dean trailed after them, trying to wrap his mind around what was happening. Sam was going to propose. He would be engaged. And he wanted them to be a part of it. It seemed incredible to him that they had come this far together already. And Sam was going to be a married man. He had gone from child to fully-grown in one moment when Dean had found out who he really was, and now he was taking this huge step for his future, a man's step. It was unbelievable.

Sam and John were looking through the glass counter at a selection of rings. Sam's brow was furrowed and his mouth downturned. A man came to them and said, "May I help you, gentlemen?

Sam straightened. "I'm looking for an engagement ring."

"Of course, sir. Let me show you what we have." He opened a door and pulled out a cushioned tray of rings. "This is a beautiful design." He plucked one ring from its recess and held it out to Sam. Sam took it and held it between his fingers. Dean could tell at once it wasn't the one. Sam didn't look unhappy, but the excitement he'd been feeling before they walked into the store wasn't so obvious now.

"That's not it," he said apologetically.

"Not to worry. We have many more."

It seemed to Dean that the rings were countless. Some were handed to Sam to examine, while others were presented in small boxes. None of them elicited the reaction Dean knew would come when he found the right one. John was endlessly patient with him, seemingly just as invested as Sam in finding the perfect one.

They eventually thanked the salesman and left the store and crossed the mall to another where the process was repeated with another stream of rings. Sam's reaction still wasn't right, though. John steered them out of the store to a third and Sam hesitated outside the window, looking at the rings on offer. Suddenly, his eyes widened and his finger pressed against the glass. "That's it!" he said excitedly.

Without another word, he rushed into the store and spoke quickly to the salesman who nodded and came to remove the ring from the display. John and Dean went inside in time to see Sam pick up the tiny ring between his fingers and trace a thumb over the stone.

"White gold and diamond in halo setting," the sales assistant said in a practiced voice.

"It's perfect," Sam said, holding it out to Dean and John to look at.

"It is," John agreed and Dean nodded. He felt a little out of his depth with it all. He'd never been in love. He'd never looked at rings as anything other than accessories. He didn't fully understand how this moment must feel for Sam.

"What size do you require?" the sales assistant asked.

Sam pulled out a ring from his pocket and handed it over. "I'm not sure. This is one of hers though."

The man took what looked like a thick metal probe from the drawer and slid the ring onto it. "You're correct," he said. "It _is_ perfect. Your intended is size six and that's what this ring is. It will need no resizing." He placed Jessica's ring back into Sam's hand and exchanged it for the new one Sam had chosen. He placed it carefully into a small, deep blue box.

Sam took his wallet from his pocket and handed over a bankcard. The man ran through the sale and then handed Sam the box. He clutched it in his hand as if someone was going to snatch it from him.

"I wish you every happiness," the man said.

"Thanks," Sam replied with a slightly goofy smile.

John clapped him on the shoulder and said, "C'mon, Sam. I think you could do with a drink."

"Yeah," Sam said bobbing his head.

Dean laughed as John guided Sam out of the store with one hand still on his shoulder, and he followed them. He might not understand love or engagement rings, but he understood family and knew that was what he was seeing in front of him.

They dropped the car off at Sam's apartment and walked the short distance to Scotty's. Sam still had the ring tucked in his pocket. He patted it occasionally as if checking to make sure it hadn't been lost. Dean hoped he wasn't going to wait too long before proposing as he would probably give himself an ulcer with the stress.

John bought the drinks and Sam took a deep draw of his bottle before lowering it and patting his pocket again. "I can't believe I found it," he said.

"It's a heady feeling," John said. "I still remember when I went shopping for Mary's ring."

"Tell me about it," Sam said eagerly.

John took a swig of beer and leaned back in his seat. "I didn't have much money either. I hadn't been out of the Marines very long, and I'd spent most of my money on the Impala.

"You were a Marine!" Sam said, stunned.

John looked at Dean, a slightly accusing look in his eyes, as if it was solely his responsibility to tell Sam their history. The subject had never come up, and it was John's story to tell anyway.

"Yes," John said. "Served in Vietnam."

Sam's eyes widened. "Oh."

"Anyway, I scraped together what I had and trawled the jewelry stores of Lawrence."

"Lawrence?" Sam asked. "You lived there?"

"Yes. Your Mom was born there and I moved into town when I was a kid. We all lived there until the fire."

Sam nodded slowly. "Wow. I didn't know. Sorry. Anyway…"

"I found it in the very last store there was," John said. "Just like you, I knew it was right the moment I saw it. I could picture it on her finger at once, and I just knew she'd love it. There was this pretty spot looking out over the park. We went there at sunset and I waited until the sun was just touching the horizon. She was bathed in the glow and she'd never looked more stunning, and she was a _beautiful_ woman always. Took my breath away, you know?"

"She was beyond beautiful," Dean said quietly. "She was like an angel."

John nodded. "So, I waited for the perfect moment and I asked. She cried when she said yes, and so did I. Only other times I cried before she was killed were the on the days you and Dean were born."

John reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. In the plastic window, opposite one with Dean and Sam as children, was a picture of Mary and John standing in front of their Lawrence house.

Dean swallowed hard as he looked at his mother's beloved face and John handed the wallet to Sam.

Sam took it in unsteady hands, and stared down at the image with an awed expression. "That's my Mom," he said quietly.

"Yes," John said soberly.

Sam nodded as he handed it back. "Thank you." He sounded as though he was thanking John for more than just showing him the picture. To Dean it felt like he was thanking him for bringing her to life for him for a moment. Dean felt the same gratitude.

* * *

Jessica was humming to herself as she wiped the counter, scooping up the detritus of her baking. The cookies were in the oven, almost baked, and she was content within herself. Sam had sent a text saying he was out with Dean and John and would be home soon, and she'd had a good study session with her friends.

She was happy about the progress Sam was making with Dean and John, too. From the shaky start to James' death, it had seemed like they were doomed to fail, but here they were, building something they all wanted, and in Dean and John's cases, protecting him. She had covered the now dry symbols on the floor with a mat and rug from the bedroom, and though Dean and John would have to leave again, they were keeping them safe in their absence.

There was a knock on the door, and she went to answer, thinking it would be Sam without his keys. Brady stood on the threshold though, his eyes bright with what looked like excitement. "Jess," he said happily. "Your man home?"

"No, he's out," Jess said. "He'll be home soon though." Her timer beeped and she quickly dashed into the kitchen to retrieve her cookies from the oven before they burned. "You're welcome to come in and wait," she called back over her shoulder.

"Thanks," Brady said. "You been decorating? I can smell paint?"

"You could say that," she replied, pulling the tray from the oven and setting it on a cooling rack. She shut the oven and walked into the living room, expecting to see Brady lolling on the couch as he usually did, but he wasn't in there.

"Brady?" she asked as she walked into the hall. Brady was bent over, and the mat was pulled back to reveal the symbol painted beneath. "Oh. That's…"

Brady grinned and scratched at the circling line with the edge of his car key, breaking the painted circle. "It's called a devil's trap, I believe."

"How do you know that?" she asked.

His eyes flashed black and he grinned. "You could say it's a family thing."

"Brady?" she said in a breathy voice.

He grinned. "Not anymore."

Jessica turned and ran, but Brady was close on her heels. She ran through the lounge, veering around the coffee table, towards the phone. She needed Sam. No, she needed John and Dean.

"You can run but you can't hide, Jess," Brady crooned. He upended the coffee table with one hand and stalked towards her, in no hurry now that he knew she was trapped. Then, suddenly he stopped as if he'd hit a wall.

Jessica gave a shaky, slightly hysterical laugh as she realized he'd walked right into the trap under the rug.

"Bitch," he growled.

Jessica stepped back slowly, knowing she needed to get to the phone but afraid to let Brady out of her sight.

"I will burn you alive," he promised.

"No," she said shakily. "You'll be sent back to Hell." She reached behind her, her hand skating across the sideboard and her fingers seizing the sheet of paper there. Praying it was the right one, she glanced at it and breathed a sigh of relief. She fixed her eyes on Brady's black ones and began to read from the paper. _"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursion, infernalis adversarii, omnis legio!"_

"Are you trying to exorcise me?" Brady asked angrily.

" _Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo draco maledicte."_

"I don't think so." He bent down and picked up the framed photograph of Sam and Jessica from a party the year before. "Hmm… Sammy," he said. "We've got _big_ plans for him."

" _Et omnis legio diabolica,"_ she said through her panicked breathing.

"No, Jessica!" he scolded. "Can't let you do that."

He raised the frame and whipped it through the air at her. It caught her temple and sent her reeling back to the floor unconscious, the exorcism dropping from her limp fingers.

* * *

 **So… That last scene would be some of the drama I mentioned. But the rest was pretty sweet, right? I loved writing the ring shopping and proposal story. Hope it made a good read.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for editing and Gredelina1 for pre-reading.**

 **I'm sorry it took so long to get this chapter out to you, especially after how I ended the last chapter. Before I left I preloaded the site with chapters of The Space Between and intended to do the same with Search on and Knocking on Heaven's Door but I ran out of time. I'm home now so we can get back to our regular update routine.**

 **Thanks for reading. You guys make the hard work worth it xxx**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Five**_

Sam was obviously eager to get back to Jessica, as when they left the bar he powered ahead of John and Dean. John smiled to himself. He remembered that feeling so well, the excitement and nerves and need to do it immediately, to give Mary that ring.

"You think he's going to do it now?" Dean asked.

"I doubt it. I think he'll have something special planned for her."

They hurried after him along the street, catching up just as he got to his apartment building. John followed him, and saw Sam freeze outside his open door.

"Jess!"

He raced inside, and John rushed after him, seeing the pushed aside mat and broken trap just inside the door. "Weapons, Dean!" he shouted over his shoulder.

"Sammy! Good to see you, buddy," an unfamiliar voice spoke.

John skidded into the living room and took in the scene before him in a split second. There was a tall man in the center of the room, standing on the rug positioned over the devil's trap Dean had painted. The coffee table had been upended, and more worrying than anything was Jessica lying prone by the kitchen door with a bloody wound on her temple.

"Jess! Oh, no, no, no, no. Jess!" Sam said desperately.

Knowing the demon was trapped and Jessica was the priority, John rushed towards her and dropped to his knees beside Sam who was patting her cheek gently and still saying her name in that wrecked voice. "Okay, Sam," John said calmly. "Give me a little space."

"Help her," he begged, moving aside.

"I will. Go get me something clean for her head wound."

Though the wound was already clotting and the bleeding stopping, John thought to give something Sam to do to make him feel like he was helping her was important. It would help him keep control.

When he was out of the room, John pressed his fingers to her throat, feeling the thrum of life there, and held his hand over her mouth to feel her breaths.

"Good girl," he praised quietly.

Sam rushed back into the room, a cloth in his hands. "Is this okay?" he asked.

"It's perfect," John said, taking it from him and laying it on Jessica's temple. "Hold it there for me, okay?"

Sam obeyed, his terrified eyes still fixed on Jessica's pale face.

John picked up Jessica's hand and dug his fingernail into her nail-bed hard. "Jessica," he said loudly. "Can you hear me?" Her hand flinched in his and she tried to pull it away weakly. "That's it, open your eyes," he encouraged.

Jessica's eyes cracked open and she winced. "Sam?"

"I'm here," Sam said. "Oh, God, Jess. I'm sorry. I'm here."

She looked into Sam's eyes and managed to smile slightly. "Hey."

Sam laughed shakily. "Hey."

"Brady?" she asked.

"He's trapped," John reassured her.

Dean ran into the room then, a shotgun over his arm and two pistols in his hands. He stopped dead as the demon in the trap turned to him. "Well, lookie here. Another Winchester."

John could see Dean putting it together in his head—the trapped demon, the injured Jessica—and then he walked around the demon and came to them.

"Is she okay?"

"I'm fine," Jessica said, pushing herself to a sitting position. Sam quickly moved so she could lean against him, which she did.

"You need a hospital," Sam said.

"In a minute," she said. "Just let me sit a while.

"How do you feel?" John asked her seriously.

"My head hurts," she admitted. "And I'm a little dizzy."

"Do you feel sick?" John asked.

"No," she said,

"Do you remember what happened?"

She glanced to the side and the framed picture with its broken glass. "He threw that at me."

John nodded, satisfied that if it was a concussion, it was a mild one. She had been incredibly lucky. An inch or two to the right and she could have lost an eye. A little harder and she could have been killed.

Sam was holding her against him, smoothing his hand up and down her arm compulsively as he fixed his eyes on Brady and said, "Why did you do this, Brady?"

"That's not Brady anymore, Sam," Dean said.

"Aw, don't tell him that. You'll upset him. Brady is his main man, isn't that right, Sam?"

"It's a demon," John explained. "Your friend has been possessed."

"So Brady is gone?" Jessica asked.

"He's still in there," Dean said. "It's just the demon in control right now."

"Can you save him?" she asked.

"We'll try," John said. "Now, do you think you can move? You need to get to a hospital."

"Yeah," she said, taking Dean's proffered hand and letting him ease her to her feet.

"Ambulance," Sam said, scrambling up beside her.

"We can't, Sam," John said. "They can't come in here with that thing in the trap."

"I'll be fine, baby," Jessica reassured him. "You can drive me."

Scowling but apparently accepting the truth of their words, he wrapped his arm around Jessica and supported her as they made their way across the room. Neither of them paid the slightest attention to the demon; they were wholly focused on each other. It seemed to annoy the demon, as he called after them, "Get better!"

John followed them to the door and closed it behind them, sliding the deadbolt into place. He took a breath and went back into the living room where Dean had his eyes fixed on the trapped demon and a look of hatred on his face.

"How long?" he asked.

"Since I moved in?" the demon asked. "It's been a while. The boss likes people to keep an eye on his investments. Sammy has been monitored practically since he was a baby. Pretty sloppy there, John, letting that Shtriga get hold of him. Not Father of the Year material at all."

John nodded slowly. The demon was obviously trying to goad him, but it didn't bother him. He knew his mistakes and failures already. What interested him was what the demon was saying about Sam.

"He had such potential," the demon went on. "A family line like his, and with you a hunter, the boss was really excited about him for a while."

"Who is your boss?" Dean asked, his tone inflectionless, controlled, but his eyes blazing with anger.

"That'd be telling," the demon said in a singsong voice.

John turned to the counter where the two flasks of holy water he'd left for Sam and Jessica were. He stepped on a piece of paper and he bent to pick it up. It was the exorcism. He smiled grimly. Clever girl.

He handed one flask to Dean and unscrewed the cap of his own. "This can go one of two ways: painfully or agonizingly. It's up to you."

The demon laughed. "You think you can break me?"

"I know I can," John replied. "I've broken a few of your kind lately. Problem is, they didn't know enough to satisfy my curiosity. I think you might."

Dean shot him a sharp look but he didn't speak. John was sure he was reacting to the mention of other demons, demons he'd not told him about. When this was over, he and Dean were going to need to have a serious conversation. Dean would surely insist on it. That would be okay. He would give Dean the answers he needed just as soon as the demon had given John his own.

"You're probably right," the demon said carelessly. "I do. Doesn't mean I'm going to share."

John shrugged. "Let's have a little fun trying anyway."

He splashed the demon's face with holy water, making him hiss between his teeth, a hiss that trailed into a laugh. "Is that all you've got. I do worse than that at parties for fun."

John addressed Dean without looking at him. "Son, find me a rosary and bucket, please. I think our friend needs a little more motivation."

"No problem," Dean said walking into the kitchen.

"It was going to be perfect, you know," the demon said. "There was symmetry to it. The boss likes symmetry. Twenty-two years ago, your bitch roasted alive on the ceiling."

"And today you were planning to do the same to Jess?" John asked.

"Yep. Not a problem though. I'll just start a new anniversary when I do kill her."

"You'll not come near her again," John growled.

"Oh, I will. Once I have squeezed the life out of your hearts with my bare hands, there will be no one left to protect poor Sammy and Jess."

"That's where you're wrong," John said, refusing to quail in the face of the threat. "He's my son. He'll always be protected."

He shrugged. "If that's what helps you sleep at night, fine. Maybe you're right even. Maybe _I_ won't kill you. Maybe it'll be Sammy himself." He sighed happily. "The things he's going to do. You have no idea."

John clenched the flask tighter in his hand and splashed the demon again. "I may not have an idea yet," he said. "But I think I'm going to find out before the night is over."

* * *

The demon was sopping wet and panting inside the trap. His eyes were closed as he tried to get on top of the pain.

Dean was satisfied at the sight. He was hurting like Jessica had. He was scared as Sam had been. He knew more pain was coming. The eerie thing about the situation was that John didn't seem concerned with asking questions. He was happier hurting the demon, breaking him down completely. He had been at it for hours. Dean wished he would ask something already. He thought the demon had to be ready now. He didn't ask himself though, as John was clearly the one in control of the situation.

The demon finally got a hold of himself and looked up with black eyes. "What do you want from me?"

"I want it all," John said. "I want to know everything you know about my son and my wife. Why was Mary killed? Was it you?"

"Me?" He laughed weakly. "I'm a foot soldier. The big gun himself turned out for that barbeque."

Dean swallowed hard. To hear his mother's horrific death spoken about so casually and cruelly was appalling. John obviously felt the same as his knuckles whitened around the flask.

"Why was the 'boss' there at all?" John asked.

"I can't tell you. Do you know what he'd do to me?"

"No idea," John said. "But I'm guessing it'll hurt." He considered for a moment. "I'm pretty sure you're heading for pain no matter what you choose to say. Either me and the holy water, or him with whatever he's got on offer. I can offer you a deal though?"

The demon's eyes faded back to blue and looked attentive. "What deal?"

"I will exorcise you, send you back to the pit, the pain and the boss. I will make it even better though; I will have every hunter I know roust every demon they can and tell them the story of how you broke and spilled your guts to us. I think that'd get them really motivated to cause some pain."

"What's my other option?"

"I let you go. I'll let you smoke out and find yourself a new meat suit—my son seems to like the kid you're in right now. You can spend the rest of time in hiding."

"Why would I hide?"

"Because you will have spilled every secret about my boy that you know."

The demon ducked his head, its expression defeated, and Dean knew which it would choose. He felt a flicker of excitement.

"You'll let me go?"

"We will. You have my word that I will let you go."

"How do I know I can trust that?"

"I am an honorable man."

Dean shifted impatiently as he waited for the demon's answer. The wait seemed to last forever before he said, "Okay. I'll talk. But you have to let me go after."

John nodded. "Why was Mary killed?" he asked.

Dean tensed, his fingernails cutting into his fisted hands.

"Because she interrupted. The boss was there for Sam, but the dumb bitch got in the way."

John swung the flask through the air almost lazily, sending droplets onto its face that hissed and steamed. "Call her that again and it'll be a bucket. Now, what was the demon doing there at all?"

"I don't know. I swear I don't. We report to him not the other way around. It was something to do with Sam, that's all I know. He's not the only one either. There are more like him. The boss' special ones. Chosen. The ones destined to be great."

Dean narrowed his eyes at the demon. Sam was going to be great, that was clear after five minutes conversation with him, but not in whatever twisted way this demon meant. Sam was good and pure, and he had nothing to offer that a demon would want.

"Why are they called special?" John asked.

"Because of their powers," he said.

"His dreams?" John asked as Dean sucked in a sharp breath.

"He got dreams, did he?" the demon asked, sounding interested. "I didn't know. He played that pretty close to his chest."

"Who is your boss?" John asked, disregarding the demon's question and raising the flask threateningly.

"Azazel. The Great One. He of the yellow eyes."

John nodded slowly and turned to Dean at last. "Anything you want to ask, son?"

Dean shook his head. "I think we got it all."

"Good," John said, picking up a piece of paper from the couch and staring to recite the Latin exorcism.

"You said you'd let me go!" the demon said, panicked.

"I did," John agreed. "I lied. I'm not that honorable after all." He recited the verse.

"If you send me back, he'll find out that you know," the demon babbled. "I'll tell him."

"Good," Dean said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Tell that bastard we're coming for him."

Dean stared into the terrified eyes as John recited the Latin smoothly. He was obviously practiced at it.

As he chanted the last words, " _Audi nos,"_ the demon's head flew back and smoke poured from its mouth and into the air where it swirled for a moment and then disappeared through the ceiling as the body dropped to the floor.

John lowered the hand that held the paper and he breathed a sigh of relief as he bent and checked the kid's pulse.

"He'll be okay." He slapped the kid's cheek hard. "Wake up!"

His eyes rolled beneath their lids and opened slowly. "What happened?" he asked in a dazed voice.

"You were possessed by a demon, "John said.

"A what?"

John shook his head impatiently as he hauled him to his feet. "Hey," he said, snapping his fingers in the kid's face. "You listening?"

"Yeah."

"Go to a hospital if you need to. Go home if you don't. Get yourself some help. You're going to be okay as long as you don't mention being in this apartment tonight or seeing us, understand?"

The kid nodded, his eyes suitably wide at the thinly veiled threat. "Okay. Yeah." He stumbled towards the hall and Dean heard the door open and close.

He took a breath, counted to ten to calm himself, and then rounded on his father. "You knew it was a demon! You knew from the minute Sam told us about his dreams, and you didn't tell us?"

"I set up protections," he defended.

"Not good enough," Dean growled. "We should have known. Did you know Sam's dreams were visions? Did you know Jessica was going to be hurt?"

"No!" John said, sounding stunned. "I would never... How can you ask that?"

"I'm asking myself a lot right now, Dad. How long have you known it was a demon that killed Mom?"

"Only days," John said quickly. "And I didn't know Sam's dreams were visions. I suspected something was going on, but I didn't know anything for sure."

"We should never have left her alone," Dean growled. "Not on this night."

"I didn't realize the date. I was so caught up with being with you and Sam that I didn't think. I had no idea what would happen."

"I sure as hell hope not," Dean said harshly. "Because if that innocent girl is really hurt because you kept your secrets, know that I will never forgive you." He took a breath before delivering the killing blow. "And neither will Sam."

John looked stricken. "What are you going to tell him?"

"Nothing," Dean said. "You're going to tell him it all yourself." He turned and walked towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To the hospital. I want to see how she is, to be there for her and my _brother_." He glanced back over his shoulder. "Want to be useful? Clean this place up. They don't need to know what happened here tonight."

That said, he stormed from the room, his pulse pounding in his ears.

* * *

 **So... How was that? Things are picking up now in the demon stakes, which should be fun. I know some of you were worried I was going to kill Jessica, so have I now reaffirmed the faith that I am not in fact Satan in disguise.**

 **Until next time...**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing and Gredelina1 for pre-reading. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Six**_

Sam's fingers drummed rhythmically against his knees. He was bent over in his chair, his eyes fixed on the floor. Every time the door Jessica had been taken through opened, his head snapped up, but no one came to him. All the news was for other people's worried loved ones.

He'd been steered out of the exam room by a kind but persistent nurse, saying the doctor needed space with Jessica for a while. He'd been deposited into this chair, and he'd been waiting there ever since. The only news he'd had was that Jessica had been taken for a CT scan, and that felt like forever ago.

He just wanted to be with her. It felt to him that his direct presence would be what saved her, though what he could do he didn't know. If he had been at the apartment when Brady attacked, he might have been able to make a difference; he could have distracted him while Jessica escaped maybe. If John and Dean had been there, too, they could have made a _real_ difference. She never would have been hurt at all had they been there.

It went back further though. He should have paid attention to his dreams. He felt sure that had Brady not been trapped, Jessica would have ended up burning on that ceiling. He had seen it coming, and he'd not done anything but bleat about his disturbed nights to Dean and John. They were the only ones that had done anything to protect her, laying traps and giving them holy water and the exorcism. Sam had left it all to them when it should have been him protecting her. But he'd been distracted, enjoying himself shopping for rings and listening to John's proposal story. He'd been selfish and stupid, and it could have cost Jessica her life.

He felt inside his pocket for the ring box. It was nestled there, perfectly safe, unlike Jessica. He had to fight the urge to fling it away from him. What had he been thinking, believing he was worthy of her? He'd thought having good LSAT scores and a bright future were enough. He should have been thinking of her protection.

The door opened once again, and Sam's head snapped up. The nurse that led him away before smiled and came towards him. He stood quickly and asked, "Is she okay?"

"She's going to need to stay overnight," the nurse said. "The rest she can tell you herself." She gestured to the door and Sam rushed through it. The nurse led him along a hall and through to a ward. She opened a door and nodded for Sam to enter.

He went in and quickly crossed the room to Jessica's bedside and fell into the chair there. Her eyes were closed, and she looked a little ghoulish with her pale skin. The wound on her head had a white gauze dressing on it. He took her hand carefully in his own and ran a finger over her palm.

She woke and her eyes found him. Her lips tugged up in an impossible smile. "Hey, baby."

"Hey," Sam said, returning her smile tremulously.

"You look terrible," she said.

Sam huffed a laugh. "Thanks."

"Are you okay?"

Her tone was so concerned it made his gall rise. That she was asking about him after what he had done was beyond wrong.

"How are _you_?" he asked. "Does it hurt a lot? Have they given you something for the pain?"

"I'm fine. It hurts a little, but they gave me some painkillers. The scan came back clear. They think it's just a mild concussion, but want to keep me in here tonight anyway. Now, are you okay, really?"

"Yeah. I'm just sorry. I should have been there."

"No," she said firmly. "You shouldn't. He said things. I think he was there for you. He would have hurt you, too."

"I should have stopped him," Sam went on remorsefully.

"How?" she asked patiently, innocent to Sam's guilt and treachery.

"I knew," he said desperately, staring into her wide eyes. "I knew he was going to come, but I didn't pay attention."

Her hand jerked in his, but she didn't pull it away. "How did you know?"

Sam released her hand gently, not wanting to have that comfort as he admitted his horrible betrayal. She reached for it again, but he tucked it into his lap, out of her reach. "I saw what he was going to do to you. All of it. It was just like my mom. He was going to do that to you, too."

* * *

Jessica felt her face drain of color and the horror of what Sam was saying sank in. "He was going to burn me on the ceiling?"

Sam swallowed convulsively as if fighting the urge to vomit. "Yes," Sam said. "I'm so sorry, Jess."

She drew a deep breath and pushed down the bile rising in her own throat and said, "And you saw this?"

"Yes."

"How?" she asked, stunned and slightly afraid of the answer.

"I dreamed it. For weeks, I've been having this dream of you dying, just like Mary, and I did nothing."

"Your nightmares," she said with dawning understanding. "That was what you were dreaming?"

He nodded, his eyes boring into her with what Jessica thought was an apology.

"Okay," she said slowly, forcing herself to sound calm. "You had dreams. Did you see Brady?"

"No!" Sam said. "I swear. If I had I would have…"

Would have what? Jessica wondered. Would he have hurt Brady, killed him even, to protect her? She thought, from the look in his eyes, that he would have.

"So, you dreamed of me dying like Mary, but you didn't see anyone else there? You had no clue who or what was doing it?"

"Yes."

"Then how is it your fault?" she asked reasonably. "You told me that Missouri said she was going to pull some threads and open some memories. You said you were having other dreams as soon as you got back from Kansas. Memoires and stuff. How were you to know it wasn't just a side effect of what she did? John's story was so exact, down to the smallest detail. How could you have known it wasn't just that story getting confused in your mind?"

"That's what I did think," Sam said. "And John and Dean thought the same. I told them about the dreams and they agreed it was just my mind getting confused."

"So, you didn't see Brady, you thought it was just a dream, and John and Dean agreed. How exactly does this make it your fault?"

"I _saw_ it!" Sam said desperately.

Jessica realized she needed to save him from his own guilt and forced herself to sound calm. "No. You had a dream of something that could easily be explained away. Sure, if you'd known it was Brady, we could have done something maybe, but you didn't. It's not your fault. It's not Brady's either. It's down to the demon that possessed him. Understand?"

Sam nodded, but she was sure he was just trying to appease her. She sighed. "You don't believe me?"

Sam shook his head, his expression apologetic.

"Then I will keep telling you until you're sick of hearing it," she said decisively. She would do it too. Sam needed to know he was blameless. She held out hand to him, palm up and, after a moment's hesitation, he took it and cupped it between his own.

She sighed and relaxed against her pillows. She was suddenly exhausted.

"You should sleep," he said. "You need rest to heal."

"You'll stay?" she asked.

"I won't leave you for anything," he promised.

She closed her eyes. "I love you, Sam."

She felt the bed dip and his lips press against hers. "I love you, too. Always."

She smiled contentedly. "Always."

She soon fell asleep and when she woke, he was still at her bedside, staring at her as if his gaze alone could protect her. She felt safe with him by her side. She always did, and nothing could change that.

* * *

Dean got to the hospital in the early hours of the morning, but he was not allowed to see Jessica. He called Sam and they spoke only long enough for Sam to tell him she was concussed but seemingly okay and for Dean to tell him the demon had been dealt with. With nothing else to do, and trusting John to clean up the apartment, he went back to their motel. He tried to sleep, but merely spent the rest of the night staring up at the ceiling and trying to process everything that had happened.

He waited until it was a reasonable time to go back to the hospital before setting out. John hadn't appeared during the night, so he left a note on the table telling him where he was going.

The receptionist on duty was just as unaccommodating as the one he'd met in the night. "I'm sorry," she said. "Visiting hours don't start till after doctor's rounds."

"And when is that?" Dean asked.

"Not until ten," she said complacently.

Dean forced a smile and read her name tag. "Look, Meredith, I'm going to be sitting here looking moody until you let me in to see her. You can let me in now or enjoy my glares for the next hour."

She smiled sweetly. "I suggest you make yourself comfortable, sir. I have teenagers; I am used to glares." Dean laughed in spite of himself and her expression softened. "I'm sorry, but my hands are tied."

"Thanks anyway," Dean said.

He walked away from the desk and went to a seating area opposite. He fired off a text to Sam saying he was there but unable to come in and received one back saying that Jessica was hoping to leave soon and that they didn't mind if he went back to the apartment to wait.

He didn't ask about Brady or what had happened, which made Dean sure that he was more concerned with Jessica. He understood. If he was in Sam's position, he would feel the same.

He grabbed a magazine from the rack and flipped through pages detailing the best way to achieve the perfect manicure and how to make your own pasta. It reminded him of meals shared with Sam and Jessica and gave him a pang of something like grief. They had come so close to losing Jessica the night before. They should have taken Sam's dreams more seriously. Dean should have pushed John to tell him everything he'd known. It might have made a difference.

That particular demon was dealt with now, but who knew what else was coming for them. Sam being 'special,' whatever that meant, was frightening. They would have to get to work, flip all the stones and find and question every demon they could until they had some answers.

He threw down the magazine and raked a hand over his face. He'd thought when the Shtriga was killed that Sam would be safe. He'd imagined him and John setting out to find Mary's killer together—to have their last revenge on the first thing that had torn their family apart. Instead, John had taken off on his own, hiding what he knew, and Sam was now in trouble again. Would their small family ever catch a break?

After a long and impatient wait, the door at the other side of the room opened and Sam and Jessica came through, Sam's arm around her shoulders. Dean leapt to his feet and rushed towards them. Jessica looked a little pale and there was a white gauze dressing on her temple, but otherwise she appeared to be okay. Sam looked wrecked. His eyes were red and ringed by shadows and his expression was tense. He nodded at Dean as Jessica smiled widely. Dean half raised his arms and then let them drop as he realized she must be sore and not in the mood for him.

"No hug?" she asked, raising her own arms.

Dean embraced her carefully and then leaned back. Sam's arm quickly came back to her shoulders and he looked over her face as if searching for something there.

"How are you doing?" Dean asked Jessica.

"I'm okay," she said. "A little bit of a headache but that's all. I got lucky."

"Thank God," Dean said fervently. He had considered many times what could have happened had the demon not been trapped, had its aim been a little better, had it thrown the frame a little harder. They could have lost this sweet, innocent girl forever.

He fell into step beside her as Sam directed them out of the hospital doors and to his car. He opened Jessica's door and saw her settled before closing it and turning to Dean. "I'm going to take her home. Will you come too?"

"Sure," Dean said. "Don't you want time alone though?"

"Later. We need to talk more. Can you get John to come over, too?"

"I think he might still be there." Dean said.

Sam nodded and Dean clapped him on the shoulder and then turned and walked back to the Impala.

He followed Sam out of the lot, noticing the steady speed he maintained as if he was carrying something fragile in the car. Dean supposed he was. To Sam, Jessica would seem more delicate than ever now. When they got to the apartment, they parked side by side and climbed out. There was a man unloading groceries from the truck of a car beside them, and he turned to address Sam. "Sam, man, what were you doing last night? It sounded like there was a massacre happening in your apartment."

"That was me," Dean said quickly. "Jessica took a spill and I stayed back at the apartment while Sam took her to get checked out. I was distracting myself with a horror movie marathon. Sorry I disturbed you."

The man seemed to disregard his words as he looked at Jessica. "Jess, are you okay?"

"Yeah, Mark. I'm fine." she replied. "I tripped and caught my head on the corner of the table going down. It's just a mild concussion though."

"You take care of her, Sam," he said.

"I will," Sam said seriously.

He gave Sam a curious look and then turned back to his trunk and Sam led Jessica away.

John was still in the apartment. He had cleaned up all signs of what had passed in the night and was doing something in the kitchen when they got inside. Sam saw Jessica settled onto the couch while Dean went into the kitchen. John was poking at the buttons on the coffee maker, muttering under his breath.

"Here," Dean said, brushing his hands aside and pressing the right button to start the brew. "You should go see Jess."

"How is she?" John asked quietly.

"Go see for yourself."

John braced himself, apparently nervous, and then went into the living room. Dean heard him asking Jessica how she was doing, and her positive reply. Dean braced his hands on the counter for a moment, bowed his head and pushed away his resentment towards his father, and then went back into to the living room to join them. Jessica was nestled against Sam's side on the couch. John had taken an armchair and was leaning forward with his hands clasped between his knees.

Dean pasted on a smile and said, "Dad's got the coffee started. Who wants some?"

"Please," Jessica said.

"Dad?"

"That'd be great," John said.

"Sam?" Dean prompted.

He shook his head. "No, thanks."

"You sure? You look like you could do with one."

Sam shook his head again. "No."

Dean went back into the kitchen and fetched mugs while he waited for the brew to finish. It seemed to take forever, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. In here he had some reprieve from the tension in the living room, but at the same time he wanted to get back to them so they could talk. Sam and Jessica had to have questions, and they deserved to have them answered.

When the coffee finished dripping into the pot, he poured three mugs, added creamer to Jessica's and carried them through. Jessica took hers gratefully and blew on it. Dean set John's down on the table in front of him and then sat in the second armchair.

There was silence for a moment as they sipped at coffee and Sam stared at Jessica, and then he slowly moved his eyes to Dean and asked, "What happened to Brady?"

"He's okay I think," Dean said. "We were able to exorcise the demon and he seemed okay after. A little shaken, obviously, but it didn't look like he'd been hurt."

"Does that happen?" Jessica asked. "Do the demons hurt the people they take?"

"More often than not," John said. "Some are hurt over the course of their time as a meat suit by other people. Others, the demons hurt on purpose, just for the amusement of knowing that, if they leave or are exorcised, the humans won't make it."

Jessica shuddered. "That's sick."

"That's demons," Dean said.

Sam cleared his throat. "Did you find out what he was doing here? Why he chose Jess I mean?" John glanced between him and Jessica and Sam said. "I told her everything already."

John nodded slowly. "Well, we think he was here for us. Our family I mean." He drew a breath and looked into Sam's eyes. "I learned recently that it was a demon that killed your mom."

Sam's eyes widened. "Like Brady?"

"Like him but not that one," Dean said. "The one that got mom was apparently his boss."

"I've been following clues lately," John said. "I've been talking with demons, finding out what they know." He stared into Jessica's eyes. "I didn't know it would come for you, I swear. If I had known, I would never have left you unprotected. We thought Sam's dreams were just that. We didn't know what it was. I am so sorry."

"I don't need more apologies. I've had enough from him." She patted Sam's chest. "Like I told him, there wasn't enough there to know what was coming. There was no sign of Brady in the dreams, and there was a perfectly good explanation for them. No one could have known."

"I am still sorry," John said heavily.

Jessica sighed heavily. "What is it with Winchester men? You're blaming yourself; Sam's blaming himself. Why is no one blaming the demon? It's his fault, not yours," she said, looking into Sam's eyes. "We were as protected as we could have been. You did all you could, all of you. Understand?"

Sam was looking at John, seeming to see something more there than his father's face. Dean thought he might be seeing the mirror of his guilt.

"Do you blame us?" Dean asked him.

Sam shook his head quickly. "No!"

"Then you can't blame yourself either. We knew as much as you did, more even. It wasn't your fault."

Sam nodded slowly, thoughtfully.

Jessica huffed. "Sure, you believe him." Her eyes were amused, so Dean knew she wasn't serious.

Sam smiled slightly. "Sorry."

"As long as you're not apologizing for what happened, I'll accept it."

"I'm not," Sam said.

"Good," Jessica said, lowering her hand from his chest and squeezing his hand. "You said you didn't know what it was then—Sam's dream. Do you know now?"

"It was something to do with the demon," John said apologetically. "The one we had last night said something about you and others like you, people with 'abilities'."

Sam paled. "Abilities? You mean this is going to happen again? I'm going to see more of those things?"

"We don't know anything for sure," Dean said consolingly.

"But you think I will," Sam said.

Dean hesitated, unsure of what to say. Sam was obviously scared, and he didn't want to make it worse, but at the same time he didn't want to lie to him. John spoke before he had wrangled his thoughts though. "We're going to fix it, Sam. We will find this demon and stop it. You'll be okay, I promise you."

Sam looked comforted, but Dean was tense. They had no guarantee that stopping the demon would solve things for Sam, or even an idea of how to stop it in the first place. There was no way to kill a demon. He was glad Sam was comforted, but it felt to him that John was lying to him and that was unforgivable after the number of lies Sam had endured in his life from James.

He drank some of his coffee to give himself something to do as Jessica pulled back to look at Sam again. "See, baby? It's going to be okay. John and Dean are going to fix it."

There was a knock on the door then, quiet enough that it might not have been meant to be heard.

"Excuse me," Sam said, standing and walking out into the hall. Dean heard the door opening and then Sam's voice, sounding stunned. "What are you doing here?" There was a quiet reply that Dean couldn't make out and then Sam said, "You better come in then."

There were footsteps and then Sam came into the room followed by the kid that had been the subject of their interrogation the night before, albeit unwittingly. Dean and John lurched to their feet at the sight of him.

"Brady?" Jessica said little weakly.

"I'm sorry!" he said at once. "I know I shouldn't have come, but I needed to know you were okay."

"I am," she said, her voice gaining strength.

The kid seemed so different from the demon they'd spent the night with. He was visibly shaking and his eyes darted around the room. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I couldn't stop it."

John's eyes gleamed. "You remember it?"

"Parts," he said. "Sometimes it would just be dark, other times it let me watch. It liked me to see it with my friends; it would whisper threats to me, tell me what it was going to do to them."

"How long?" Sam asked. "When did it take you?"

"Spring break, sophomore year," he said nervously.

Sam glanced down at Jess. "It introduced us!"

"Why?" she asked. "Was it planning to kill me all that time?"

"Yes," Brady answered. "It thought about it a lot."

"What else did it think about?" John asked intensely.

Brady ducked his head. "Not much that it didn't tell you last night. I just know…"

"What?" Sam asked. "What does it want with me, do you know?"

"There's going to be a war," Brady said. "And there will be soldiers."

Sam turned away and ran his hands though his hair.

"Sam," Jessica said tentatively.

He looked back at her and he looked scared.

"It'll be okay."

"It will," John said firmly. "We're going to take care of this, Sam. You will both be safe."

Sam nodded and took a breath, his expression smoothing. He seemed to have absolute faith in what he was being told. Dean wished he could warn him, but to do that would break him, and Dean couldn't bear that, so he nodded and said, "We'll protect you, Sam. I swear."

* * *

 **So… We know a little more and John is making big promises. There's no way that can fail, right?**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for all your hard work on this chapter. Thank you Gredelina1 for supporting me writing and giving the content the once over before it was done. I can't overstate how much these ladies do for me and the story.**

 **Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I am constantly touched by how many of you are sharing your thoughts and enjoying the story.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Seven**_

John hated to leave his boys again already, but it was more important than ever that they find out who this Azazel was and what exactly he wanted from Sam, so just a few hours after Jessica got home from the hospital, he set out for The Roadhouse. His phone remained tucked under his ear for the first hour of the journey as he made the arrangements for what he needed.

He stopped in the early hours of the morning at a rest stop and crashed, his exhaustion finally catching up with him as his adrenaline ran out. He slept hard for six hours, and then, cursing the wasted time, he woke up and set out again. He was forced to sleep one more time when his eyes started to blur and so he arrived at The Roadhouse late the following evening. He called Dean to let him know he'd gotten there and promised to call again when he knew more. Dean was the only one that knew what he was doing. He'd told Sam he was working on a way to save him from his dreams, and that was the truth, albeit a little vague. Even his friends only knew he wanted to see them. It was a testament to the kind of people they were that they all agreed to make the journey for him without knowing more.

The parking lot was busy as was to be expected given the hour, which meant they would have to wait until closing to talk freely. As he climbed out, he spotted Bobby's Chevelle and Caleb's Mustang parked side by side. Nodding to himself, satisfied, he pushed open the bar door and entered.

There was a momentary lull in the voices talking as people registered someone new arriving. They quickly relaxed as they recognized one of their own and the noise built up again. He nodded to acquaintances and made his way across to where Ellen was serving at the bar.

"John," she said, seemingly pleased. "You made it then."

"Thanks for this, Ellen," he said.

"I don't know what you're thanking me for yet. All you've said is you need to talk. I'm guessing since Bobby and Caleb arrived a few hours ago that this isn't going to be a small affair."

"Won't be too big," John said. "Just Jim Murphy and Daniel Elkins to come. Where's Bill?"

"On the phone to Jo. She's not doing so good at college. He's talking her down. I can't do it. She won't listen to me."

John smiled. "That's because you're too much alike."

"You may be right," she conceded. "How about your boys? I know Dean is the mirror of you from the fast hands to the leather jacket, but what about Sam?"

John smiled serenely. "He's all Mary. Gentle, kind; he's not a hunter."

She nodded thoughtfully. "And you don't want him to be?"

John ran a hand over his face. "No. Truthfully, I don't want either of my boys to be. Dean might have a chance of something different when it's over, I hope, but Sam, no. He's not stepping any deeper into our world than he already has."

"When it's over?"

"Later, Ellen," he said, glancing to the side where Walt was listening to them while feigning the interest in the story Roy was telling him.

She followed his eyes and said in a glaring change of topic, "How is Sam?"

"He's okay," John said carefully.

"You don't sound so sure," she observed.

"I'll tell you about it when I can,"

"Make sure you do. You want a drink?"

"Beer, please," he said.

"You off the whiskey?" she asked.

"Trying," he said. "Need to keep a clear head." Though he wished more than anything for a belt of good stuff to take the edge off of his tension.

She reached under the counter and handed him a bottle, then shook her head as he held out a bill. "On me."

"Thanks," John said.

A man came to the bar and held out a bill, catching Ellen's eye.

"I'll leave you to work," he said then turned and wandered over to the table Bobby and Caleb had claimed.

They watched him as he approached, looking curious, and when he took a chair beside Bobby, Caleb leaned forward, a smile of his face. "So, John, what's with the secret rendezvous? This isn't like you."

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I'm surprised he called us. John likes going it alone."

"You've spoken to Dean?" John guessed.

"Yeah. The kid was worried."

"It's dealt with. He understands now. And that part is over."

"I hope so," Bobby said.

Caleb took a swig of his beer and asked, "So, what is it about?"

He seemed eager, excited. This was why John had hesitated before calling him in. Caleb was a fine hunter, but he didn't immerse himself in the life the way Bobby, John and Daniel did. Even Jim, who had his parishioners, didn't have the same ability to separate the pieces of his life in him. Caleb reminded him more of Dean as he was now, since he had found Sam. He was lighter than the others; he even kept in touch with his people and went on completely civilian family picnics.

"I'll tell you about it when we're all here," John said stiffly. "We're waiting on Jim and Daniel."

"Wow, it's like a reunion," Caleb said while Bobby looked interested.

It wasn't a reunion, John thought. It was yet another attempt to protect his family from the things trying to tear them apart.

* * *

Daniel Elkins and Jim Murphy arrived shortly before closing. The bar was busy, and when the time came to close, Ellen and Bill had to chivy drinkers out of the door against protests that John and his table were staying.

"It's a private party," Bill said as he herded Walt and Roy to the door. Finally, the door closed behind the last person and Ellen slid the bolts across while Bill went behind the bar to fetch a bottle of whiskey and glasses.

He set the bottle down on the table and placed a glass in front of each person, then pulled two chairs around for himself and Ellen and sat down. Ellen dimmed the lights and joined them. She poured the drinks, moving past John when he shook his head and picked up his beer. When they each had a drink, silence fell between them, an expectant silence that made John want to squirm. He had never dealt with this many hunters at once before, let alone asked for something from them. It went against him to ask for help, always had. It had always been Dean that asked for their help. He had made the calls when they needed to hole up somewhere when John was having a hard time. The only time John felt comfortable was when asking for help for Dean—as he had of Bobby when he'd had to leave the Stanford vampire hunt.

But here he was, about to ask them to risk everything to save his family, and it had to be done. He was without a choice in the matter if he was going to protect them.

"I need help," he said, his voice seeming too loud in the almost empty room.

"Whatever you need," Bill said without hesitation. He drew the eyes of the others in the room and varying states of surprise apart from Ellen who was nodding.

"You don't even know what I am asking," he said.

"Doesn't matter," Ellen said firmly. "We owe you."

"I owe you more," John argued. "You have taken me and Dean in when I've needed it every time we asked."

"That's not a debt," Bill said. "That's being friends."

He wondered what he had done to provoke such loyalty from these people. He had saved Bill once, but they had saved him more when they took them in, when they spent nights talking with him, listening to him rave about Mary's death and memorializing Sammy. They had listened every time, keeping him sane enough to scrape together enough life to pretend to be coping even a little for Dean. They had made it possible for him to protect Dean from the very worst of it.

"What's happening, John?" Jim asked gravely.

"Something is coming for my family, and I can't protect them alone."

Bobby's face was guarded as he asked, "What is coming?"

John drew a deep breath and said, "A demon. A very powerful demon."

The only person that showed no shock was Daniel as he had been there while John was interrogating the other demons.

John went on. "It's the monster that murdered Mary.

"So, it's revenge?" Bobby asked.

"No. Well, yes, in part. It took her from us, and I do want revenge, but more than that I want to protect my family. It's coming for my boy. It wants Sam."

Ellen sucked in a breath, and John thought he could follow the path of her thoughts. Sam, the little boy she'd known who had now returned grown, the young man she'd shared drinks with, taken by a monster again. Dean, his good and loving heart, torn apart again by the loss of his brother. Their family in tatters once more. They had barely survived it once; they could not do it again.

"We're with you," Bill said, laying a comforting arm around Ellen's shoulders.

"Me too," Bobby said gruffly.

"I will do whatever I can," Jim said.

"I'm in," Caleb said, his tone uncharacteristically serious.

John's eyes found Daniel and he watched as Daniel considered. He didn't have the same stake in this that the others did. With the exception of Caleb, they'd all known Sam as a child. They cared for him, as well as Dean and John, even if, like Bobby, they weren't the most able of people to show it.

Daniel nodded slowly. "I will help."

"Thank you," John said gratefully, looking from face to face. "I will never be able to repay you for this."

"What do you need us to do?" Bill asked.

"Demons," John said. "I want you to find as many as you can for me. I need information and they're the only ones that can give it. I want to know everything possible about this demon. All I know so far is that it's called Azazel and it apparently has yellow eyes."

"I've never heard of any with eyes that aren't black or red," Ellen said.

"None of us have," John said. "Which is one reason I'm afraid. We've never tangled with anything like this before. No hunter has as far as I know."

"What do we do with the demons when we have them?" Caleb asked.

"Call me," John said. "I want to talk to as many as I can."

"When you say talk, you mean torture," Jim said mildly.

"Yes," John said shamelessly. "I won't ask any of you to do that for me, but I will do it myself. I've had a few lately, and I found I could make them talk without hurting the meat suit. Enough holy water and they will break."

"We can do that, too," Caleb said.

"I won't ask any of you to torture for me," he said, looking at Jim. He knew that, no matter how much his friend wanted to help, he wouldn't be able to that.

"You're not asking," Caleb said. "I'm offering."

"I can do it, too," Bill said.

Bobby shrugged. "If we can do it without killing the meat suits, I'll do it, too. It won't be the first time I've gone up against something like this."

"I will help where I can," Jim said carefully, echoing his earlier offer of help.

Daniel nodded. "You know I will."

John breathed out in a sigh, relief rushing over him. He never imagined they would be prepared to do this for him, too. With them all working alongside him, they could speed up the process, get as much information as they could as fast as they could.

"Thank you all," he said. "This means more to us that you can know."

"I have a question," Caleb said. "Why just ask us? There's a bunch of hunters out there that would want a piece of this. And the more of us, the easier it would be."

John hesitated. "You're right, but I want this to stay just us. I don't want anyone else knowing what we're doing." He couldn't risk more people finding out about Sam's part in it.

"Why not? What aren't you telling us?" Bobby asked shrewdly.

John sat with his head bowed for a moment, feeling their gazes boring into him. He and Dean had decided together that no one else should know about Sam's vision or the possibility that there could be more. He thought now that they were wrong though. These people were willing to risk their lives going after demons, setting aside their own wants and needs to torture them. The least they deserved was the truth.

He looked up and said, "There are people out there that the demon called special. They have something Azazel wants. A power of some sort I think. Sam is one of them." Ignoring their exclamations of shock, he said, "Sam had a dream of his girlfriend being killed just like Mary. He saw it night after night for weeks. Somehow, that dream has something to do with the demon. I don't know whether it's something the demon did or something he wants, but Sam's in danger because of it." His voice desperate, he said, "I can't let the demon have him."

"Of course not," Ellen said consolingly. "And it won't. We'll find out what you need to know and we'll take care of it."

"I'm with you," Bobby said. "But when you do find it, what are you going to do? Exorcism has got to be nothing more than a vacation for a heavy hitter like this. There's no weapon that can kill one, and I'm pretty sure we can't keep it in a trap forever."

"There might be a weapon," John said carefully. "I heard rumors about one."

"You're talking about The Colt," Bobby said. "John, that's just a story. It doesn't exist."

"I think it might," John replied. "I've been reading lore, and it's mentioned a lot."

"What is The Colt?" Caleb asked.

"In 1835, Samuel Colt made a gun," Bobby explained. "It was supposed to kill anything. It was used half a dozen times before it disappeared. It's a hunter's legend though. Not real."

"I don't think so," John said stubbornly. "I think it's out there, and I am going to find it."

"How?" Caleb asked.

"I don't know," John admitted. "I just know I have to."

"I suppose anything's possible," Jim said. "You found Sam after all, and not a single one of us thought that could happen."

"This isn't a missing child though," Bobby said.

"My son was dead and came back to me," John said. "This gun is a legend, maybe, but I'm finding that, too." He looked to Daniel. "What do you think?"

"I think it's real," he said. "And I will help you find it. I will help in any way I can."

"Good," John said. "Because I believe this is bigger than my son. The demon we had last said some stuff that's pretty heavy."

"What did it say?" Ellen asked.

John drew a breath and said, "That there's going to be a war and there will be soldiers."

"Demon soldiers?" Jim asked, his hands pressing together as if in prayer.

"I hope so," John said heavily. "Because if not, I think it means humans… I think it means Sam."

* * *

 **So… They have a plan and a team onside now to protect Sam and stop the the this chapter was different for me. I've never had this kind of scene before. It was a lot of characters to track. I hope it came out okay.**

 **Want to share thoughts on the Wayward Pilot? My inbox is always open.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing, encouraging and answering my many random questions. Thank you Gredelina1 for all your help and support.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Eight**_

Dean went to Sam and Jessica's apartment the next afternoon. Sam was still at class, but Jessica was home. She greeted him as effusively as ever and offered him coffee as he took a seat on the armchair.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" he asked.

Jessica smiled and shook her head. "You sound just like Sam. I'm fine. I'm not sick. I'm not dizzy. It doesn't even hurt anymore. The stitches are just kinda itchy." She flopped down on the couch and brought a hand up as if she was actually going to scratch them. She quickly lowered it again, looking annoyed.

"Yeah, stitches do that," Dean agreed.

"I guess you've had a lot," she said.

"I've had—and done—more than I can remember."

"You mean like actually done stitches?" she asked. "You've stitched people up?"

"Well I don't mean needlework," Dean said. "Though I'd probably be good at it, all the practice I've had."

Jessica looked mildly impressed. "Wow. It really is a different kind of life you lead, isn't it?"

"Yes," Dean said seriously. "It is."

"How do you cope with it?" she asked.

Dean shrugged. "It's pretty much all I've known. I had a few years of normal with Mom and Dad, and they were great as far as I remember, but that's the thing, I don't remember that much. I remember my mom was the most beautiful woman that ever lived and my dad as the best father, but the little stuff doesn't really have an impact. I was only four when all that ended. The clearest memory I have of that time is the night of the fire, carrying Sammy out of the house."

"That must have been terrible," she said quietly.

"It was. It changed everything." He nodded. "But after that my life was what it is now. I wasn't hunting right away, of course, but my innocence was gone overnight. I had to take care of Sammy and then dad started coming home hurt. I had to learn how to take care of both of them. I don't know exactly how old I was when Dad started to tell me the truth of the world, but Sammy was still really small."

"You must have been so scared," she said.

"No. I actually felt better. Even though I was a kid, and it was scary crap he was telling me, he also told me how to protect myself. I was relieved when he told me about salt and holy water, because that would scare the demons and ghosts away from me and Sammy. I felt like I could fight back."

"And you were stitching him up even then?"

"Yeah." He smiled slightly. "Dad says my stitches were better when I was a kid than they are now. Smaller hands, see?"

Jessica shook her head, looking shocked. He supposed to her his story didn't make sense. It probably wouldn't to Sam either. They hadn't had his life. To him, stitching his father's wounds and getting ice for his bruises was as normal a part of his childhood as kindergarten and play dates would be to them. It was a different world. One he was glad they didn't know. The life Sam had now, college, Jessica, his friends, was something he was thrilled about. It was everything he could have wanted for him. As much as he hated James Hydeker, and he truly did, he accepted that he had given Sam a good childhood, even if it had come at the cost of his real family.

"Anyway," he said bracingly. "I reckon I could clean up at the craft corner at the county fair with my stitching."

"Can you knit too?" she asked with an impish look in her eyes.

"Afraid not. Can you? Sam said you were the homemaker after all."

She threw a pillow at him and he caught it deftly. "Just because I made him upgrade from packing crates and paper plates, doesn't mean I'm Martha Stewart."

"Who?" Dean asked.

"Never mind," she said, waving a hand. "It doesn't matter anyway."

"So, apart from itchy stitches, how are you doing?"

"I told you, I'm fine."

"Physically, yeah, but how about mentally? It was a hell of a thing you went through."

She shrugged. "I think I'm okay. I'm trying not to think about it too much to be honest. I'm more disturbed by what Brady said about a war. I mean, what can me and Sam do about that? We're not hunters, or any kind of fighters really. It going to be down to you and people like you, and that makes me feel like we're letting you all down."

"You're not," Dean said. "Keeping yourselves safe is the very best thing you can do for us. And stay far away when it, whatever it is, starts happening."

"And Sam?" she asked. "If he's a big enough part of it to be targeted by this demon, if it went to the trouble of setting me and Sam up and then came back to kill me, he has to be more than a pawn, right? He's got to be a player."

"That's what we're going to try to find out," Dean said. "We don't know anything for sure yet. What does Sam say about it?"

"He's scared. He doesn't say it, but I can tell. I don't know if he's more scared for himself or me though."

"I think it's you," Dean said. "You're everything to him." He thought of the ring Sam had stashed away, ready to give to her when the moment was right, and their shared future. It was down to him and John to make sure they got that.

"He's everything to me, too," she said seriously. "I don't think I really realized that until those vampires got him. I was suddenly facing the prospect of a life without him and I was more scared then than when the demon came."

Dean wondered how that must feel, to have someone that loved you so completely that wasn't your family. He would die for his father or Sam, and he was sure John would do the same, but they were blood. Sam and Jessica were different. They'd been brought together with no connection outside of attraction and created this bond. He considered whether he would ever feel the same thing with someone. He doubted it. Hunting didn't lend itself to long-term romance. He knew some hunters that made it work, Tamara and Isaac, Ellen and Bill, but he thought they were the exceptions not the rule.

"What are you thinking?" Jessica asked.

"About how hungry I am," he lied.

"Sure," she said slowly, obviously aware of the lie, but playing along with him. "What do you want to eat?"

"Betsy's burgers," he said without hesitation.

She nodded thoughtfully. "I can offer something better. Sam makes incredible cheeseburgers."

"He does? I thought he was a health nut."

"Nut being the word." She smiled fondly. "No, he makes some pretty impressive junk food, too. He only cracks it out for special occasions, birthdays and the Fourth of July, but he's got skills."

"It's not a special occasion," Dean pointed out.

"True, but I have been injured. I think we could squeeze a couple burgers out of him if we ask nicely." She grinned. "Especially if we've got half the work done already. I make killer buns."

"Shouldn't you be resting?"

"Want this burger or not, Winchester?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Okay. As long as you let me do the heavy lifting."

"Sure." She got to her feet and made for the kitchen. "You're about to get a vital education in bread making."

"I'm sure that'll come in real handy in my life," Dean said with a laugh.

"Yep. And you can teach me something in return," she replied.

"What do you want to know?"

"I'll save that for when Sam gets home, I think."

Confused, and thinking that whatever it was she wanted was going to be a touchy subject, he stood and followed her into the kitchen where she handed him an apron and pointed at a cupboard and said, "Flour. Stat."

Dean laughed. He thought he was in for an interesting afternoon.

* * *

Sam hadn't wanted to leave Jessica, but she'd assured him with texts that she was okay and that Dean had arrived, so trusting that Dean would take care of her, he'd gone to a meeting of the college's homelessness support committee run by a group of juniors. It had been interesting to hear their plans for fundraisers and arrangements to go into the town with food and supplies for people. Sam had listened to it all and signed up to take part in various activities, but he still didn't feel satisfied he was doing enough. He wanted to really make a difference.

When he got out, he sent off another message to Jessica to check in and then set off for the hospital to see Rick. He was sitting on his usual bench by the entrance, his bags around him. He raised his head and smiled when he saw Sam approaching.

"Hey, Rick," Sam said, taking a seat beside him on the bench. "How are you doing?"

"I'm keeping on," Rick said. He looked at Sam's empty hands and said. "So, you're not bearing gifts of mouthwash today. Is this a social visit?"

"Do you need anything? Because I can run to the store if you do."

"No, I'm well supplied," he replied. "Just curious. Where's your lovely lady today?"

"She's home," Sam said. "Had a little accident over the weekend, so she's resting."

"What happened?" he asked, concerned.

"Long story," Sam said. "We had an unwelcome visitor and she was hurt. She says she's okay, though."

"You feel guilty," Rick stated.

"Yeah. I should have been there to protect her. It was my fault."

"Maybe," Rick said. "Or maybe you're displacing the blame to help you deal. It's easier for you to blame yourself than admit you had no control over what happened. You were powerless to protect her and that's scary."

"Maybe," Sam said thoughtfully. He thought Rick might be right. He probably would have been powerless when the demon came. He couldn't have protected her, but he could maybe have warned her. Though what would that have done but terrify her? He had done what he could; he had told Dean and John, and they had done what they could. Perhaps it really was out of his control.

"So," Rick said. "What is it you need, Sam?"

"How do you know I need something?" he asked.

"Because you didn't have time to shop to bring an excuse to visit, which means you're preoccupied. Jessica is home, apparently hurt, but you're here, so you must have a good reason for leaving her."

"I do need something," Sam admitted. "I want to help people. More people than I am now. I have come into some money and I want to use it for good. I just don't know how."

"There's a bunch of charities out there that would bite your hand off for a donation," Rick said.

"Yeah, and I will make sure they get one, but I want to know…"

"What?"

"What would really help _you_ , Rick?"

"Now? A job. Somewhere to sleep other than the emergency shelter. What would have helped me then was free healthcare." He considered carefully. "You want to really help people, Sam, then stop them ending up here in the first place. There are people already helping us when it happens, but not many preventing it. How much money are we talking here?"

"A scary amount," Sam admitted, ashamed to be talking of these things when Rick had nothing.

"Then do something with it. It would be easy to hand it out, give it away to people that need it, but you could do something better. Start some kind of business, give people jobs, plow your profits back into it and give more people jobs. Make sure they have the best insurance. Give them a way to save themselves. Don't abandon them when they need you most like they did me."

"I don't know where I'd even start," Sam said.

"If you've got as much money as you're saying, you've got to have people that are paid to advise and help."

Sam thought of James' adviser, Ted Brattigan. He was still technically employed by Sam. He wouldn't want to work with him because of the connection to James, but he could find someone else.

He began to smile. "I think you're right, Rick."

"Of course I am. And Sam, do me a favor okay?"

"Anything," Sam vowed.

"Make me your first hire."

"It's a deal," Sam said, shaking his hand.

Rick grinned. "Now, you better get yourself back to Jess. You have a lot to tell her."

"I do," Sam bobbed his head enthusiastically. "Thanks, Rick." He stood and walked back to his car. He was feeling positive now, excited even. This was the sort of thing he'd wanted to use James' money for.

He didn't look back, so he didn't see Rick's eyes change to onyx black or his cruel smile.

* * *

When Sam got back to the apartment, he opened the door to the smell of fresh baked bread and the sound of laughter. He followed the sound into the kitchen where Dean was standing by the sink, up to his elbows in suds, while Jessica sat on the counter beside him, drying dishes and passing him things to wash.

Her eyes were alight with amusement as Dean said, "I swear I already washed this bowl once. How many do you have? And what's so funny? Do I have something on my face?"

Sam leaned against the doorframe, just watching them. He saw Jessica's trick at once. Dean was washing the things and she was drying them and passing them right back to be washed again. It was a trick she'd used on him in the past.

"Now, I know I've washed this mug already," he said. "Unless you've got two World's Best Boyfriend mugs, which by the way is a little cheesy."

"I think it's cute," Sam said and Dean spun to look at him. "And you have washed it before. She's just passing the same things round again and again."

Dean looked betrayed. "Jessica!"

She laughed. "Sorry, couldn't resist."

Sam went to her and lifted her off the counter and into his arms. She clung to him for a moment and then he set her down on her feet.

"That was cruel and unusual punishment," Dean said.

"I wanted you to get the full experience," she said shamelessly. "I figured if you ate on the road all the time, you wouldn't have washed dishes very often."

He looked at Sam, lips parted with shock, and Sam laughed. "You were played, Dean. It won't be the last time." He turned to Jessica. "How are you feeling? Have you been resting?"

"I feel fine, no nausea or dizziness, and no headache. I rested until Dean arrived and then we baked some buns." She looked at him slyly. "We need something to put in them, though."

"Cheeseburgers?" Sam asked, unable to deny her anything after what happened.

"Yes, please," she said sweetly.

Dean grinned at her and she returned it. Sam felt like he was missing out on some joke. He shrugged it off though and went to the fridge to see if they had what he'd need. He pulled out a package of ground beef and set it on the counter, then an onion and bulb of garlic, which he tossed to Dean.

"Finely chop the onion, please," he said. "And just a clove of the garlic."

Dean grabbed a chopping board and knife and got to work.

"How was your day?" Jessica asked.

"It was okay," Sam said going to the spice rack and pulling down jars and carrying them back to the counter. "Classes dragged a bit, but I went to that committee meeting after and then went to see Rick."

"How is he?" Jessica asked.

"He seems okay. We actually had a good talk. He gave me some advice and an idea."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Sam said, dumping the beef into a bowl and tipping in the herbs. "He thinks I can best help people by creating jobs for them instead of just handing the money out."

"How are you going to do that?" Dean asked interestedly.

"I'm going to start some kind of business." He looked for Dean's reaction, worried it would be doubt or amusement, but he nodded thoughtfully.

"That's a pretty good idea. Let them help themselves up instead of just short-term solutions."

"What exactly do you know about running a business though?" Jessica asked.

"Pretty much nothing, but I'm going to find someone that does," he said. "There are people out there that know about this stuff, and I'm going to find them."

Jessica smiled. "I think it an awesome idea. You can really make a difference."

That was what Sam was hoping. He was going to take James' money and help people with it. He could think of no better revenge.

* * *

 **So… 'Rick' has given Sam something to think about.**

 **Fun fact: Sam seeing Rick at the hospital was a last-minute idea when I was writing that chapter of Lost and Found. Sam needed a diversion from his thoughts of what Dean had said, and Rick was already kinda introduced so I went with it. It became something more in this story though—actually one of my favorite facets of the story. Sometimes little things do that to me.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for the fab beta job and Gredelina1 for helping me polish the wording up a little. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter**_ _ **Nine**_

Sam heard Dean's soft snores as he came out of his bedroom. Dean had crashed on the couch the night before, having had a few too many beers with dinner to drive, and he was still sleeping.

Sam crept through the living room and into the kitchen to fetch himself a coffee and something to eat. He was just waiting for the coffee to finish dripping into the pot while he shook salt onto the windowsill, replenishing the lines, when Dean came in behind him. He was tousle-haired and sleepy looking.

Sam had noticed that when they were on the trip to Lawrence, Dean and John seemed alert and aware all the time, even first thing in the morning. They didn't dress down to sleep either. Sam had felt stupid changing into his sweats at first, before he reminded himself that what he was doing was the normal thing, not the other way around. But when he stayed at the apartment with them, Dean seemed to let himself relax a little more than he did on the road. It was strange, because this place had been violated by a demon recently. Sam wondered if it had something to do with the fact that the apartment was a home. Did some memory of what he had before the fire remain in Dean's mind and that made him comfortable here?

Whatever it was, Sam liked it.

"Morning," Dean said, yawning widely.

"Morning. Coffee?"

"Please."

The coffee dripped its last and Sam poured two mugs. He handed one to Dean and then rooted in the fridge for some fresh fruit salad from last night's dessert. It had been his stipulation that they eat something healthy for dessert after the burgers. He took out the container and decanted some into a bowl.

"Want some?"

Dean shook his head and grimaced. "No thanks."

Sam smiled. "Jess has a stash of Pop-Tarts in the cupboard. She won't mind if you help yourself."

"Maybe later," Dean said.

Sam nodded and began to spoon up his breakfast, leaning against the counter while Dean sipped at his coffee. Dean seemed to be on the verge of speech for a while, opening his mouth and then snapping it shut again. Sam watched him for a moment, waiting for him to start, and when he didn't, he eventually took pity on him. "What's up, Dean?" he asked, scooping up another spoon of strawberry and blueberries and popping it into his mouth.

"Jessica wants me to teach her to shoot," he said.

Sam sucked in a breath and something lodged itself in his throat. He slammed his bowl down on the counter as he leaned over the sink and tried to cough to clear the blockage.

"That went well," Dean muttered as he smacked him on the back. "C'mon, Sammy. No Winchester is getting taken out by a blueberry."

Sam coughed hard once more and felt his throat clear. He sucked in a gasping breath and Dean peered around his shoulder. "You okay?"

Eyes streaming, he nodded and continued to heave in air until his head cleared. "Sammy?" he said in a hoarse voice, surprised at the use of the nickname.

"Oh. Yeah," Dean said awkwardly. "Sorry."

Sam was sure he too was thinking of the cruel words Sam had flung at him in his anger: ' _Sammy is dead.'_

"It's okay," he said, massaging his aching chest. "You can call me what you like." He liked it even.

"Yeah?" Dean asked, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"So long as I don't have to call you Deany."

Dean shook his head and grinned. "It's Dee. When you were a kid I mean. Your first word was Dee, and it took a couple years for you to break the habit."

Sam smiled as another puzzle piece of his past slipped into place. "I'm not calling you that either."

Dean laughed. "I'd rather you didn't."

Sam coughed once more, pushed aside his bowl and took a sip of coffee.

Dean waited pointedly until he'd swallowed and then said, "What do you think then?"

"About Jess becoming Annie Oakley? It's not the best news I ever got." He sighed. "It makes sense that she'd want to be able to protect herself though. I want to protect her, too."

"She said pretty much the same thing, except she wants to protect _both_ of you."

Sam hated that this situation was necessary. He hated that there was a need for Jessica to protect herself at all. He wasn't a pacifist exactly, but he believed guns had a place and that place was not in his hands. When John had talked about leaving Sam and Jessica weapons, Sam had not been thrilled. But when it turned out the weapons were an iron poker and knives, he'd dealt. He at least understood how they worked. Guns were a different matter. He'd meant what he said though; he wanted to be able to protect Jessica and thereby himself.

"Me too," he said. "I want to learn."

"And the fact your face is screaming 'No' right now should in no way make me doubt your conviction?" Dean asked.

"Okay, I don't want to learn," Sam admitted. "But I need to learn. I've been dragged into some fight I don't understand and that scares me. I have to be as prepared as I can be."

"You haven't been dragged in yet," Dean said firmly. "Me and Dad are doing everything to keep you out of it."

"I know a demon that would disagree," Sam said with a wry smile. "I believe you and John can protect us, but I'd be dumb not to teach myself how to do that, too."

Dean nodded thoughtfully. "You're probably right. Okay. We'll make it a family affair. I'll take you and Jess out when you get home and I'll make sure you're as ready as you can be."

"Thanks," Sam said glancing at the clock and gulping down the last of his coffee. "I better go. Take care of Jess for me, okay?"

"You know it," Dean said.

Sam rushed through the living room, grabbing his bag from the end of the couch, and out of the door. He paused a moment on the doorstep and sighed. "Guns," he said disbelievingly. "What's become of my life?"

* * *

At Sam's request, he was the one that drove them out to Cottonwood Creek in his Ford. Dean had protested at first, but when Sam pointed out that Dean risked his rims driving off-road, he was persuaded that it was the best idea. He surreptitiously gathered guns from the Impala when the lot was empty and stashed them in Sam's trunk. He complained a lot about feeling like he was 'riding in a plastic box' though. Sam swallowed his complaints gracefully, knowing when you valued a car as much as Dean did the Impala, it would be hard to give up the wheel.

Sam knew the way there as he and Jessica sometimes hiked in the area. They were going deeper in than they usually would though, as they didn't want their little shooting range discovered.

When they stopped as deep in the park as they could, Dean climbed gratefully out of the car and grabbed his black duffel from the trunk. Slinging it over his shoulder, he set off with the other two following.

Sam was worried about Jessica on the walk, but she insisted she was fine, no more concussion issues and Sam trusted her words. When they reached a point Dean deemed acceptable in a copse of trees, he set his bag on the ground and pulled out three handguns. He laid them down and checked each clip before sliding them back into place.

"First rule," he said seriously. "Assume it's loaded at all times. A gun is the most dangerous thing you can carry around, and if you lose respect for it, treat it casually, it's likely you or someone else is going to get seriously hurt or killed."

Sam nodded somberly. He was feeling the impact of what they were about to do. They were aiming at the beer bottles Dean had brought from the recycling, but they were training to shoot at other things: things that lived, breathed, and attacked in return.

Dean set up four bottles on a stump and stepped back. He picked up the guns and held one out to Sam and Jessica each. Sam took one and weighed it in his hand for a moment. It was heavier than he'd expected, and it felt to him that the weight emphasized the power and danger of the thing he held.

His nerves must have shown as Dean said, "You okay, Sam?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

Dean scrutinized him for a moment and then said, "Okay. Next thing, your grip. The gun becomes an extension of your hand and arm. It becomes a part of you." He demonstrated a hold, extending the gun in front of him. Sam paid attention to the way his fingers were positioned and when he said, "Give it a try," Sam nervously raised the gun, held in both hands, trying to mimic Dean's grip.

"Finger off the trigger please, Jess," Dean said calmly.

"Oops." Jessica quickly obeyed.

"And uncross your thumbs. You'll hurt yourself the way you are." He set his own gun down on the ground carefully and then adjusted her hands. "That's better."

He moved to Sam and nodded. "Okay. That's good, but you might want to hold it a little tighter. You're not going to hurt it." When Sam hesitated, he said. "It's more dangerous in a loose grip than firm, Sam."

Sam tightened his fingers and Dean nodded. "Good. Now, when you pull the trigger, you want to do it slowly with a nice even pressure. Don't rush it. You've got all the time in the world. Keep the rest of your body as still as possible, too. That way your aim is going to be better."

Sam took in a deep breath and slowly blew it out, trying to calm his nerves. How was he supposed to stay still when his heart was pounding against his ribs? He felt as if he was vibrating with it.

"Find your dominant eye and use that only," Dean said. "It's almost impossible to aim with both eyes at the same time. Whichever gives you the clearest image, feels more comfortable, is the one. Jess, you go first. Look down your arm to the sights and line them up with the bottle. Use the gun as a finger. You're pointing at it. When you're ready, take the shot."

"What, now?" Sam asked. "We're shooting already?" He couldn't believe it. Surely there were other things to learn first.

Dean looked serious. "You'll be okay, Sam. You can do it. Just watch Jess."

Jessica drew in a deep breath and became almost serene. She closed one eye, corrected her aim slightly and then pulled the trigger. The sound seemed deafening in Sam's ears, and he flinched and closed his eyes.

"I did it!" Jessica said excitedly. "I got it."

Sam opened his eyes and saw that there was one less beer bottle on the stump now.

"Nice," Dean said appreciatively. "Lower your gun now." Jessica obeyed and Dean smiled at her. "That was really good, Jess. You're picking it up much faster than I did."

Jessica beamed at him. "Really?"

"Yeah. Though I was only five at the time," he added.

"John took you shooting when you were five years old?" Sam said, astounded. What the hell kind of childhood was that? He'd always known it was different for Dean than him, but this was an eye-opener.

"Yeah." Dean looked as though he couldn't understand Sam's reaction. "I had to learn how to protect you, Sam."

"But you were five!" Sam said.

"It's a different life in the hunting community," Dean said as if that explained everything. Then he smiled. "Now, quit with the delays. It's your turn. Line up your sights and gently pull the trigger."

Sam took a breath and tried to center himself. He aimed carefully and slowly pulled the trigger. He couldn't stop himself from flinching though, and when the gun kicked in his hands, his eyes squeezed shut. He knew before he even looked that the bullet had gone wild.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Dean said patiently. "You flinched. It's natural at first. You can get through it by breathing steadily. A tighter grip will help with the kick, too. You'll get it. It just takes practice."

Sam didn't want to practice though. He'd tried and failed. But then he looked at Jessica, almost alight with excitement, and he realized he didn't have a choice. She needed him to do it. He had to be able to protect her.

"Okay," he said, nodding.

"Good," Dean said. "You ready to go again, Jess?"

"Yes," she said eagerly.

"Then let's go."

* * *

Jessica was confused. Sam was jittery, not himself, and though he had been a little nervous since Brady's attack, this was different. She couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was, but he seemed happy, so she didn't push him for answers. He was striding around the apartment while Jessica sat on the couch and did her catch-up reading for Monday's first class.

After a while, he appeared in the kitchen doorway, his cheeks flushed, and said. "You up for a drive?"

Jessica shrugged. She had all weekend to finish her reading, and a drive together might be nice. "Sure."

"You're not too sore?" he asked solicitously

"Not even a little."

Sam beamed. "Great." He disappeared into the hall and came back with her jacket in his hands. "It'll be a little cold," he said.

"We're driving, right?" she said. Sam's car had good heating and they never bothered with jackets usually.

"My car needs a repair," he said. "John is going to look at it for me tomorrow."

"He's back?" Jessica asked. Last she knew he was away doing something to do with the demon.

"He got back earlier," Sam said. "He called while you were on the phone with your mom."

"Great. So, how are we going for a drive without the car?"

"Dean's letting me borrow his. I don't know how good the heating will be in that though."

Jessica's eyes widened. "We're taking the Impala?"

"Yeah. That's okay, right?"

Jessica had wanted a chance to ride in the Impala since she'd first seen it. Sam wasn't remotely classic car savvy. He liked his Ford as it got him from A-to-B with good mileage. Jessica's brothers had considered themselves aficionados though, and as the younger sister, if she wanted to spend time with them, it had to be in the garage. She was more familiar with Mustangs, but she appreciated the beauty of the Impala's clean lines and powerful engine.

"That's great," she said enthusiastically.

She got up and Sam helped her into her jacket. He grabbed a couple blankets from the back of the couch and went into the hall to grab his own jacket.

"I don't think it's going to be _that_ cold, Sam," she said.

"You never know," he said distractedly.

He grabbed a set of keys, then led her out of the door. They walked out to the parking lot, and Jessica felt a thrill of excitement as he opened the car door for her and saw her settled inside. Sam was always a gentleman, but he was taking it to the next level today. Jessica guessed it was because of the attack and his accompanying guilt, though Jessica knew he was blameless, despite what he had dreamed.

He climbed in behind the wheel and brought the engine to life. It rumbled, and Jessica closed her eyes a moment, enjoying the sound. The cassette player started and the strains of Ramble On filled the car. Sam turned it down slightly and then looked to her. "You don't mind, do you?"

"No," she said, bewildered. "Don't you though?" Sam's taste in music was usually more modern.

"I like it," he said, looking a little embarrassed. "We listened to it when we went to Kansas. I think John played this kinda stuff a lot when I was a kid, because it feels familiar, know what I mean? It's a good feeling. Kinda like home."

Jessica smiled. "I don't mind at all."

Sam pulled them out of their spot and turned onto the road.

"Are we going anywhere in particular?" she asked. Not that she was complaining. The experience of riding in the Impala was great in itself."

"I thought we could go to Half Moon Bay. That okay?"

Jessica nodded. Sam cranked the heating up and frowned as a rattling sound started. "Something must be caught in the vent," he said. "Weird that they never took it out."

"I bet they don't even hear it anymore. Things like that eventually go unnoticed. Like traffic noise at night."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe."

For a while they were quiet as Sam drove them toward the coast. Jessica asked Sam about the classes they didn't share, and though he answered, his mind was obviously on different things. Jessica fell silent and just enjoyed the drive.

When they got to the bay, Sam drove them through the streets, eventually stopping at a lookout spot on the clifftop. He cut the engine and said with satisfaction, "It's almost sunset."

"Yes," Jessica agreed, wondering what the significance was. It was beautiful and all, but Sam seemed find special meaning in it. An idea occurred to her. "Sam, did you bring me parking? In your _brother's_ car?"

"No!" Sam said, sounding appalled. "God no. I just thought it would be nice to watch the sun go down here."

Jessica smiled. "It will be nice. She slid along the seat to Sam's side and leaned against him. "It'll be perfect."

"Hope so," Sam muttered.

His fingers began to stroke through her hair and Jessica relaxed against him. It was bliss. After all the troubles they'd had lately, it was nice to just be together. The sun sank lower and the light filled the car bathing their faces. Sam looked down at her and whispered, "Beautiful."

Jessica smiled against his chest.

The sun was almost at the horizon when Sam said, "Why don't we get out. See it properly."

"Sure."

Her climbed out and rushed around to her side to open the door before she could. He took her hand and led her toward the wooden fence that blocked the way to the very edge of the cliffs.

Sam stared at the sky for a moment, and then turned back to Jessica. "I love you," he said. "You know that, right?"

"Of course," she said. "I love you, too, baby. Always."

Sam smiled. "I sure hope so."

Jessica frowned at the words and then gasped as Sam took her hand in his and dropped down to one knee in front of her.

"Sam?" she asked, her voice shocked and wavering. It felt like she was in a dream; she had to stop herself from pinching her arm to check she was awake.

"Jessica Moore," he said somberly. "I love you more than anything in the world. You are everything." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, deep blue jewelry box. He opened it and held it out to her, revealing a ring. "Will you marry me?"

Jessica couldn't speak; words utterly failed her. She nodded though as tears filled her eyes.

"That's a yes?" Sam asked hopefully.

She swallowed hard and whispered. "It's a yes."

Sam ducked his head a moment, and when he looked up his eyes were wet, too. He took the ring out eagerly and dropped the box onto the ground in his haste.

With shaking hands, he slid the ring onto her finger, his eyes bright. Jessica looked down at it, taking in the design for the first time. "It's beautiful."

Sam got to his feet and then pulled her against him in a fierce embrace. Their lips met and Jessica poured all her excitement, joy and love into the kiss. Sam responded in kind, and time seemed to stop. The only thing in her world that she was aware of was Sam. Nothing else mattered, would ever matter, as long as she had him.

When they eventually pulled apart, she wiped a fresh tear from Sam's cheek and whispered, "I love you so much."

"I love you, too." He looked down at the ring on her finger with a disbelieving expression, as if he wasn't really sure it was real.

"This is perfect," Jessica said. "All of it. The sunset. The ring. You're perfect."

Sam blushed slightly. "I can't take all the credit. I got the idea from someone else. This was how my dad proposed to Mary."

"Well he's perfect, too," she said, and then something else registered. "You just called John dad."

"Huh. I guess I did," he said in a surprised voice. Then he shrugged. "It's what he is though, right?"

"He is," she agreed.

Sam smiled. "Ready to go tell my dad and brother they're getting a new daughter and sister?"

"Most definitely," she said.

Sam took her hand and led her back to the car and saw her settled. Jessica watched him as he walked around the front of the car as she toyed with her ring, turning it on her finger. She was, she thought, as happy as she had ever been. Sam was hers forever now. It was real. They were going to be married and nothing would ever come between them.

* * *

Dean unlocked the door to Sam and Jessica's apartment and went in calling, "Sam? Jess? You home?"

There was no response and Dean looked back at John and shrugged. "He did mean tonight, right?"

"You saw the text, too. He said to come over and to use the key under the mat."

"Weird."

"They will be here soon, I'm sure," John said. He was looking forward to seeing his son. It had been a week, and with all the planning and discussion that had gone on without and about him, John felt that he needed to see him to ensure he was okay. And Jessica. When John had left, Jessica had been suffering the immediate aftermath of the demon's attack. She'd been pale and a little shaky, though outwardly strong. He wanted to make sure for himself that both she and Sam were okay now.

There was a book discarded on the couch and an empty glass on the table.

"Think they're okay?" Dean asked.

"I think if something bad had happened, Sam would have called," John said serenely. "Now, what were you saying in the car about Sam's marksmanship?"

"What? Oh, yeah." Dean sat down in an armchair, the picture of ease despite the tension in his brow. "Well, he's good. Once he got over his fear of the weapon and concentrated on aiming, he was right on the targets. I think if he gets enough practice, he'll be great. He's got the motivation."

"Jessica," John stated, knowing his son could have no better motivation.

Dean nodded. "Jessica."

"How's her shooting?"

"Good," Dean said. "She's confident and shot the bottle to pieces her first time. Her only weakness is the fact she gets excited and that throws her off."

"Sounds like you when you first started shooting," John said.

Dean nodded, looking pensive.

"What?" John asked. "What's the problem?"

Dam shrugged. "I told Sam and Jess about that, how I starting shooting when I was five."

John frowned. "And?"

"And Sam seemed pretty shocked."

"In a bad way?" John asked.

"In a shocked way," Dean said evasively.

John took his answer from that. Sam's reaction wasn't good. It wasn't that young to start, but perhaps the motivation was the difference. Most kids around Dean's age would have been learning by shooting targets for fun, only ever to hold a gun with proper supervision. John had been teaching Dean so he could actually shoot something. Admittedly, it would have been a monster, but it would still have been a life. He had armed his son to protect himself and his brother. Had he been wrong? He wasn't sure. He was sure that, right or wrong, it had been for a good reason. It had been necessary for the protection of both Dean and Sammy.

He wasn't sure how he felt about it. He didn't want to disappoint Sam, but he couldn't pretend to be anything other than he was to gain his approval as it would have been false. He wanted to earn Sam's respect by being himself

"I told him it's a different life," Dean said.

"It is," John agreed then eyed his son shrewdly. "Do you ever wish your life was different?"

"Yeah, of course," Dean said as if it was obvious, and John felt a shard of ice pierce his chest. "I wish Mom hadn't died. I wish Sammy hadn't been taken. I wish we never had a reason to find out about the real world."

"Yes, but do you wish you had this." He gestured around the room with a hand. "A home? College? A girlfriend?"

"I think I'm a little old for college, Dad," he said with a quirk of the lips, evading the question.

"You know what I mean."

Dean considered. "No. I don't think I'm cut out for the college life. If things had been different, if Mom had lived, I would have probably joined you at the garage or done something more practical than study."

"Do you want a home?"

Dean shrugged and looked around the room. "We kinda have one now anyway. Sam and Jess have opened theirs." He sighed. "I would have wanted this sort of thing, home, girlfriend, civilian life, if we'd not lost Mom. But knowing what I know about the world, the dangers there are, I wouldn't take it. We help people, Dad. We save lives. I can't understand why anyone that knew what we do wouldn't want to do the same."

He stated it all so matter-of-factly and John felt a surge of admiration for his son. He had joined the life to avenge his wife, and that had seemed like a noble reason, but Dean had put him to shame. He felt sure that if Mary had lived but Dean learned about the real world anyway, nothing would have been different for him. He would risk his life to save other people just because it was the right thing to do.

"You're a good man, Dean," he said seriously.

Dean frowned, obviously confused.

"I mean it," he said emphatically. "You are."

Dean ducked his head awkwardly. "Thanks, Dad." He looked up and grinned. "Want a drink? I think there's a few beers the fridge after last time."

"That would be great." There was the sound of the door opening then and a squeal of laughter. "Or not," he said.

The laughter moved along the hall and then Sam came through the door, Jessica in his arms bridal style. She was holding a bottle of champagne and her eyes were alight with excitement. John knew at once why they had been invited over. He and Dean rose to meet them.

"You can put me down now, Sam," Jessica said.

Sam set her on her feet and quickly put an arm around her. It was as if he needed to be touching some part of her for him to keep his feet on the ground. John had never seen him so blissfully happy. Not even as a child when each day had been an adventure to be explored.

"So," Dean said carefully. "You've got some news for us?"

Jessica set the bottle of champagne on the sideboard and held out her hand where a ring sparkled on her finger.

"She said yes," Sam said, sounding punch-drunk.

"Awesome!" Dean roared, rushing forwards and pulling her out of Sam's arms and into his own. He lifted her off her feet and then set her down again. He opened his arms to Sam and they embraced. Dean slapped Sam's back, and then released him. His smile was almost as wide as Sam's. "Man, I'm so happy for you."

Sam grinned. "Thanks, Dean."

John embraced Jessica gently, mindful of her injury still, and she squeezed him back with surprising strength. She released him, and he thought she had never looked prettier than she did now with her face alight with happiness. He held a hand to Sam and Sam shook it only to then catch him completely off guard by embracing him. For a moment, John was stunned, and then he held him too, feeling the warm weight of his living son in his arms. Too soon, it seemed to John, Sam let go and stepped back.

"Congratulations," John said, looking between her and Sam, his voice slightly shaky.

"Thanks, Dad," Sam said easily.

John felt his throat close and his eyes burn. He thought he must have misheard, hearing what he wanted rather than what was there, but when he glanced at Dean, he was nodding slightly, looking satisfied, and John thought Sam must really have said it.

He felt a tremor starting in his hands and he knew the feeling well. It was what had precluded his bouts of misery and grief before when in the grips of a breakdown. It was not misery this time though. It was sheer joy at hearing that word from his son catching him off guard.

Sam didn't seem to notice, he was staring at Jessica with a look of adoration, still in his bubble of bliss. Dean did though, being familiar with the symptoms from long years of monitoring him.

"Glasses!" he said loudly. "Come on, Dad. You can lend a hand." He tugged on John's arm and led him into the kitchen. "Keep it together," he whispered.

When they were alone in the kitchen, he released John's arm and stepped in close, his eyes raking over John face. "Are you okay?" he asked intensely.

"Did you hear him, Dean?" he asked, his voice weak.

"I heard," Dean said, a wide smile spreading across his face.

"That's my boy."

"It is. Can you handle this? Hold it together?"

"Yes," John said decisively, wiping a hand over his face and smearing the tears he hadn't been aware of shedding.

He had once told Dean he would never hold his child again, never hear him call him Daddy. And that had broken his heart. He hadn't known how it would feel to hold his grown son in his arms, though, to hear him call him Dad. It was incredible. It felt like it was healing his heart.

"Good," Dean said opening a cupboard and taking out four champagne flutes. "You ready to go back?"

John nodded and wiped his face again, hiding the evidence of his tears.

Dean inspected his face, nodded, and then walked back into the lounge saying loudly, "C'mon, Sammy. Get that bottle open so we can celebrate properly."

* * *

Dean was proud of his father. He was holding it together, even though Dean had seen all the signs of an impending meltdown. The fact it was positive emotion that had brought it on this time was great, but to Dean, who had seen his father through this so many times before, it was still hard not to feel the jolt of memory.

John was leaning forward in his seat, his glass held in his hand and a wide smile on his face. "How did he do it?" he asked eagerly.

Jessica sighed happily. "It was perfect. We went to this little bay a half hour drive away. It was coming on sunset, and we just watched it, and then Sam said we should get out to see it properly. He told me he loved me and then got down on one knee and asked, just as the sun set."

John's mouth dropped open as the realization sank in of Sam's choice of proposal. Dean wished they were sitting closer, so he could surreptitiously nudge him or something, remind him of the need to keep control, but John quickly got it together, mastered himself, and formed his lips into a smile again.

"I hear I have you to thank for it," Jessica said, beaming at John.

"I hope you don't mind," Sam said. "I'm not as imaginative as you."

"I don't mind at all," John said.

"It was perfect," Jessica said, looking into Sam's eyes. "I love that you did the same thing. It gives it more meaning."

Sam kissed her. "I'm glad."

"That's why you wanted to borrow the Impala," Dean said, understanding at last. "And here I was thinking you just wanted to test out an upgrade from your rolling pile of plastic."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Mileage, Dean. What about the environment?"

"What about the bliss of driving a thing of beauty, you hippy?"

"You know, he has a point," Jessica said. "We could get something a little more… classic?"

"Okay," Sam said. "As soon as I have the money, I will buy you something nice and old to cruise around in."

Dean thought Jessica could have asked him to scrap the Ford there and then and buy a bicycle instead and he would have agreed he was so happy.

She jabbed him with an elbow. "They're called classics not old, and I am going to hold you to that, Mister."

"So, what's next?" Dean asked. "Obviously you've got the carrying her over the threshold part down—which, by the way, is supposed to come after the wedding—but when are you doing to do it for real? What are you planning? Church and bridesmaids or Vegas?"

Sam snorted. "Vegas? With Jessica's family?"

"They'd disown me for even thinking it," Jessica said. "My mom would be…" Her eyes suddenly widened. "Mom! Dad! I haven't told them yet!"

Sam laughed. "You might want to get on that."

She jumped to her feet and grabbed her phone from the table. She dialed with shaking hands and then held it to her ear. "Hey, Mom," she said with barely suppressed glee. "I have something to tell you…" There was a pause and then she squealed. "Sam asked me to marry him!"

There was an echo of a squeal on the line and she held it away from her face as she walked toward the kitchen.

Sam watched her go with a look of such tenderness that Dean felt he was intruding on something.

They were quiet for a moment, listening to Jessica chatter in the kitchen, and then John said, "So what is the plan?"

Sam laughed. "They really would disown her. It will be the full works."

"And you don't mind that?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "Whatever Jess needs is fine with me. I want to give her whatever she wants, and she'll want to do the same for her family. As long as we're married at the end of it, I don't mind how we get there."

Jessica came back into the room then and held out the phone to Sam. "Mom wants a word."

Sam took the phone and said, "Hello, Elizabeth… Yes, I did… Thank you…" He grimaced and said in an even tone, "Of course. We can talk." There was a pause and he said. "Hey… Yeah, I'm aware. No one in the world…" He looked a little shocked. "Both legs? You're right, that does sound painful. I will make sure to keep that in mind… Thank you… Okay. Here she is." He handed the phone back to Jessica and ran a hand over his face.

"Let me guess," Dean said. "You just got threatened by Jess' dad."

"I wish. He'd be less scary. That was her youngest sister threatening to break my legs if I let Jess down."

Dean cackled. "You're kidding me!"

Sam laughed with him. "Afraid not. Melanie is a spitfire, and she really would do it."

"You do realize you're pretty much a giant, right?" Dean asked.

"Tall I may be, but she's scarier. She might not be able to it herself, but she'd hire someone that could."

Jessica said her goodbyes and put the phone down and then sat beside Sam again. "Scared, baby?" she teased.

"Terrified," he said solemnly. "I'm relying on you to protect me."

Jessica laughed. "I love you but even I'm no match for Mel."

"True," Sam agreed.

"I need to meet this girl," Dean said admiringly.

"You will at the wedding," Sam said casually.

Dean grinned as he realized what it meant. There would be an actual wedding. He and John would see Sam get married to Jessica.

Even after they'd found Sam, built something with him, shopped for rings, he'd not imagined that a wedding was something that would ever involve him and John. It seemed so normal when they were anything but.

A wedding. What was his life even?

* * *

 **So… Sam finally got down on one knee. I was looking forward to this one from the moment I started outlining this story—Sam calling John 'Dad' for the first time and the proposal—and I hope I pulled off the emotion it holds for me. It also has one of my favorite ever lines:** _ **"No Winchester is getting taken out by a blueberry."**_

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing this for me and everything you do. Thank you Gredelina1 for supporting and advising. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

 **Chapter Ten**

When Dean and John got to the apartment the next morning, they knocked on the door and waited for longer than usual before Sam whipped it open and then ran back along the hall, calling, "Come in," over his shoulder.

Bemused, they followed him through to the living room. Dean noticed there were some delicious smells coming from the kitchen alongside clattering and an occasional curse.

"Did you burn them, baby?" Jessica shouted to him from where she reclined on the couch.

"No," Sam shouted back. "It's all under control."

John sat down in the armchair and jerked his head at the kitchen door as he asked, "What's going on in there?"

Jessica grinned. "Sam has apparently decided that being engaged gives me a right to be a woman of leisure. I waited for breakfast in bed, but that took too long, so I came out here to support and encourage." She smiled fondly. "I think he's going for the record number of dishes for one meal."

"He's starting out as he means to go on, taking care of you," John said.

"Absolutely," she agreed, stretching languidly. "I am doing the same. Isn't that right, Sam?" She raised her voice so he would hear her.

Sam appeared in the doorway, a smudge of flour on his cheek and a harried expression. "I'm sure it is," he said, then disappeared inside the kitchen again.

John laughed.

"Seriously, though," she said. "I offered to help, but he shooed me out and insisted that I stay out here and relax. I'll give him this time and then it'll be my turn."

Dean heard another curse and he said, "You think I can help him out or is that cheating?"

"You'll have to see what he says," Jessica replied.

Dean walked into the kitchen and took in the chaos around Sam. There were two skillets on the stove, one frying sausages and the other with bubbling pancakes in it. There was a waffle maker steaming on the counter and Sam was beating eggs while his eyes darted between the pancakes and sausage.

"Need help?" Dean asked.

Sam considered for a moment, and then seemed to realize he was in over his head. His shoulders slumped, and he said, "Can you turn the pancakes?"

Dean grabbed a spatula and flipped them over carefully. "You know, there's such a thing as going too big," he said conversationally.

Sam sighed. "I have made all these things a bunch of times. I thought I could handle it."

"Have you ever made them all at once?" Dean asked.

"No," he admitted, setting aside the eggs and opening the lid of the waffle iron. He smiled victoriously and placed the perfectly browned waffles on a plate. He picked up the bowl of eggs and made to pour them into the waffle maker. Dean quickly took the bowl out of his hand and, ignoring his confused look, replaced it with the one of waffle batter.

"Thanks," Sam said with an embarrassed smile, pouring it into the pan.

Dean shook the sausages slightly to turn them and slid the cooked pancakes onto a plate.

"More?" he asked, counting the small pile already on the plate.

"No, but you could scramble some eggs for me. There's a clean skillet in the cupboard."

Dean retrieved the skillet and dropped in a knob of butter to melt. "Is there anything else we need to do?" he asked.

"Fruit!" Sam said suddenly. "I haven't done the fruit."

"Not a problem," Dean said, calling over his shoulder, "Dad, you got a minute?"

There was the sound of plodding footsteps, and then John said, "Wow. When you make breakfast, you really go all out."

Dean nodded and exchanged a smile with him. "There's fruit needs chopping. You good for it?"

"Yeah," John said, rolling up his sleeves. "Just point me where."

Dean opened the fridge and pointed to the compartment he knew Sam and Jessica used to keep their soft fruit fresh. John filled a bowl and then carried it to the counter while Dean poured eggs into the skillet.

"You sure don't mind, Dad?" Sam asked.

"Not at all," John said. "It's not often I get a chance to show off my knife skills to anything that's not trying to kill me.

Sam huffed a laughed. "Okay then."

Within ten minutes, the table was set and heaped with plates of food and mugs of coffee, and Sam was calling Jessica in. She appeared in the doorway and said, "Wow. That's… uh… something. You do realize there's only four of us, right?" she asked.

Sam glanced over the table and shrugged. "I'll box up what's left and take it to Rick and the others."

She walked around the table to sit beside him and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Sam."

"It was a family effort," Sam said a little abashed.

"It's still great," she said. "Now, are we eating?"

Sam nodded eagerly and then they all sat and began to fill their plates with food. Dean noticed that even Sam helped himself to pancakes and waffles as well as a heaping of fruit. He was glad. He was starting to worry the kid had no taste buds in his mouth with all the green and healthy crap he put in there.

They ate without speaking for a while, the only sound the scrape of knives and forks on plates and murmurs of appreciation. When Dean had eaten more than his fill, he pushed away his plate and picked up his coffee, waiting for the others to finish, too. When Sam, the last of them to finish, swallowed his last bite and cleared his throat, they all sat back in their chairs, replete.

Jessica refreshed their coffees and Sam turned to John. "So, how did it go with whatever it was you were doing?"

John wiped at his mouth with a napkin, seeming to be deciding how much to say. Dean hoped he went with full honesty as he hadn't heard the story either and thought they all deserved it.

"I went back to that bar we took you to," he said.

"The Roadhouse," Sam said, nodding. "Ellen and Bill's place."

Dean nodded. He knew Sam had some memory of them from before, as he'd mentioned them when Missouri had hypnotized him.

"I met some other friends there, too," John went on. "Some you know, but a couple you don't." He glanced at Dean and said, "Bobby came, and Daniel Elkins and Caleb. Jim Murphy, too."

Dean nodded thoughtfully. With Ellen and Bill, that made a good group. Probably the only hunters out there they could really trust.

"Pastor Jim," Sam said with a small smile.

"You remember these people?" Jessica asked.

"Yeah," Sam said. "Probably not as well as I should, but there's flashes. Bobby lives in a place with a bunch of cars, right?"

"That's right," John said looking pleased. "He has a salvage yard and repair shop."

"And Pastor Jim has a nice garden."

"That's right," Dean said. He didn't realize Sam had gained so much back past the memories he'd gotten at Missouri's place. He'd said there had been dreams, though, and Dean was pleased that there was more he remembered.

"But I haven't met Daniel or Caleb?" he checked.

"No. Caleb came after you were gone, and I never introduced you to Daniel."

Sam nodded and said, "Sorry. Go on."

"It's okay, Sam," John said. "You need to puzzle it all together. That makes sense. Well, we all met, and I told them about the demon your friend Brady mentioned when he was possessed."

"And the war?" Jessica asked, her tone somber.

"Yeah, that too."

"How'd they take it?" Dean asked.

"Pretty much as you'd expect," John replied. "They're obviously worried, but they've all agreed to do what they can."

"What can they do?" Sam asked. "I mean, what are we all going to do?"

"You and Jess are going to live your lives same as you ever did," John said sternly. "We are going to find this demon. That's what our friends are doing now. They're finding lesser demons and questioning them."

"Even Jim?" Dean asked.

"He's doing what he can," John said.

Dean was pleased in a way. As much as he wanted to get to the bottom of things, to find this demon and protect Sam, he didn't want Jim to have to sacrifice an important part of himself to do it. He wasn't capable of torturing a demon the way John had Brady. He didn't have it in him as he was now. He would have to change, and that would take away the gentleness and kindness Dean admired most in him.

"They are doing _everything_ they can to find it," John said.

Sam looked a little pale as he said, "That means hurting them, right? Your friends are hurting people for me."

"Not people, Sam. Demons," Dean reminded him. "If they just use salt and holy water, they can protect the meat suits."

"But what if the demon has hurt them already?" he asked. "You said they do that. If they're exorcised, that can kill the people."

"It can, but if the demon has done that much damage, they're dead already. All we're doing by exorcising them is letting the humans have peace."

"And they're doing it willingly?" Sam asked. "All your friends, I mean. They're ready to do this for a stranger?"

"Yes," John said. "They agreed before they even knew about the war. And you're not a stranger to them. Even Daniel and Caleb, who never met you, know you because they have been a part of our search for you all these years. And Bobby, Jim, Ellen and Bill, they have more than flashes of you, Sam. They care about you."

Jessica squeezed his hand where it sat on the table. "It's okay, baby," she said softly. "Think of all the others. John said there were more people like you, with abilities. They need to be protected, too."

"Doesn't feel like an ability," Sam said bitterly. "It's feels like a curse."

"I know this is a lot to handle," John said. "And you're taking it better than I think any of us could. But you have to believe me, believe us; we're going to protect you. It will all be okay."

Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah. I know. I just wish it wasn't necessary."

"So do we all," Dean said seriously. "But it won't be forever. Soon you will be able to go on with your life free of all this."

Sam looked at Jessica and smiled sadly. Dean wondered where his thoughts were. Was he thinking of the future they would have when the threat was over, or was he wondering whether there would be one at all? Maybe he didn't have complete faith in them to save him. They would just have to prove him wrong.

* * *

Sam was sitting in a booth at Betsy's, sipping a coffee as he watched Rick demolish a club sandwich and fries.

"Aren't you eating at the refuge center?" he asked.

"You get breakfast and dinner there, but lunch is down to us to find," Rick said through a mouthful. "Besides, this is Betsy's. You can't eat slow."

"You could savor it," Sam said.

Rick grinned. "Believe me, I'm doing that, too." He swallowed thickly and said, "So, this is the second lunch you've brought for me this week. Not that I'm complaining, but aren't you supposed to be in class right now?"

"I've got a pretty light schedule this semester," Sam said. "The benefit of taking a heavy courseload for three years."

"Don't get used to it," Rick said. "I doubt you get any sort of light schedule in law school."

"I won't," Sam said seriously.

"It'll be worth it," he said. "When you're a big fancy lawyer in your skyscraper, defending the rich and stupid, you'll forget all about the struggle to get there."

Sam snorted. "Do you really see me doing that?"

"Being a big-time lawyer? Yes."

"Defending the rich and stupid, I mean," Sam said.

Rick considered. "No. Maybe not. I could see you being incredibly successful at it, but I can't see you enjoying it. You seem more human than those sharks. What do you want to do?"

"I wanted to do criminal law. I thought defending the innocent would be satisfying."

"But now?"

"I don't think it would satisfy me. That's what Jess wants to do, and she'll be great at it." He smiled. "I think I'll have to rely on her to support me while I work for the little man."

"Doing what?"

"Civil rights law. I think I can make a difference to the world that way."

"I used to be like you," Rick said thoughtfully. "I wanted to help people, too. So I worked for a charity, not worried about the piss-poor wages or crappy insurance because I was doing good, helping people and families in crisis. Then some asshole plowed into me at an intersection and I ended up being the one in crisis. How's that for coincidence?"

"I'm sorry, Rick," he said.

Rick waved away his words. "How is your lovely fiancée?" he asked in an obvious attempt at changing the subject. "Wedding planning going full steam ahead?"

"Not yet," Sam said. "At least I don't think so. Her mom calls a couple times a day to talk, but Jess and I have had other things happening that matter more."

"Don't let her hear you saying that. Brides-to-be tend to think weddings are pretty much _the_ most important thing."

"Nah, she gets it. She's just as caught up as I am."

"With?" Rick asked pointedly.

"Law school interviews. I had mine a couple days ago, and Jess has hers today."

Sam was nervous. He thought his interview had gone well. He'd been able to form a rapport with the interviewer. He thought he'd asked the right questions and his answers to those that he'd been asked in return had been good. He thought he had a real chance.

He was more confident about Jessica's chances. She could charm like no one else, and the fact they were interviewing her meant they had considered her letters of recommendation in partnership with her LSAT score. She'd left that morning with a spring in her step, ready to face the challenge as she always did.

"Good luck," Rick said easily, popping a fry into his mouth and chewing.

Sam smiled. "Thanks, Rick."

Rick swallowed and said. "Well, how's it going with my future employment? Making any progress in building your empire?"

"Not so much," Sam said guiltily. "I'm still not sure what I want to actually do for a business. You got any ideas?"

"Sam, I live on a bench. What exactly do you think I know about businesses?"

"I think you know more that you're saying," Sam said. He thought Rick was an intelligent and capable man that had been struck down on his luck. He pretended to be ignorant to prevent himself from having to face just how wrong his life had gone. Perhaps it made it easier for him.

Rick considered for a moment. "Maybe. Okay, how about TVs? People like them, and there always seems to be some new model advertised. Or clothes. Women always need new clothes."

"That's nice and stereotypical," Sam said.

"Cell phones!" Rick said. "Everyone has one of those these days."

Sam laughed, "I don't think I'm going to put Blackberry out of business, to be honest. I like the idea of manufacturing though. It would be good to have something physical to show for the work."

"Definitely," Rick said. "You can employ all levels of skillsets that way. People can be taught how to operate machinery and work basics with their hands. Yeah. You get to work on that and I can be your foreman."

Sam nodded. "Okay. I'll start looking into it."

"What does your bigshot adviser say?" he asked.

"I, uh, haven't got one yet," Sam admitted.

Rick looked stern. "What's the hold up?"

"There's been a lot going on," Sam defended.

"Yeah, interviews and proposals, and I'm sure that was exciting and all, but did it stop you from checking the Yellow Pages?"

"No," Sam said. "I'm sorry. I'll do it when I get home. It wasn't just me and Jess that distracted me though."

"No? What was it then?"

"There's been family stuff going on, too. Things are a little tough right now, a little dangerous even. We're in trouble. My dad and brother are working on it right now; people are putting themselves out there to help us, and…"

"And that's got you all twisted with guilt," he guessed. "Sam, you've helped me a lot. I don't just mean with cash and hot meals. You've given me hope and something to look to forward to in the future other than another night in the shelter. I don't feel guilty about that though, because I needed the help. You have to accept the same."

"When I say putting themselves out there, I mean _really_ putting themselves out.

"Let me ask you a question. Could you get out of this 'trouble' on your own?"

"No." Sam knew he didn't a chance without his family and their friends.

"Then take the help that's offered and do what you can, too. Right now, that means finding someone that can help you to set up something great."

"Thanks," Sam said. "I needed to hear that."

"Good," he said, satisfied. "Now, what are you still doing here with me if you have all this important stuff to do?"

"I guess I wanted a little normal," Sam said.

Rick huffed a laugh. "Wow, if you think this is normal, you're more messed up than I thought. Go on, get your ass out of here. Find Jess, make some calls, do whatever it is you've got to do to help. Go save the world, Sam."

That wasn't his job, he thought. It was Dean and John's. He could do his part though. He would help who he could.

He slid out of the booth and dropped down bills to cover their tab. "Thanks, Rick," he said and then walked out of the door and into the bright sun.

He didn't go to his last class of the day. He thought there was something more important to be doing. He walked home and let himself into the apartment.

He wasn't expecting Jessica to be home, so he was surprised to see her sitting on the couch, a book open on her lap.

"Hey," he said. "You okay?"

"Fine," she said serenely. "You got a call while you were out. I wrote down the number."

Frowning, Sam picked up the phone and piece of paper with the number written on it in Jessica's neat handwriting. It was a local number that he didn't recognize. He wandered into the kitchen, dialing as he went. It was answered promptly, and a woman's professional voice said, "Stanford University. Admissions."

"Hello, it's Sam Hydeker." How he hated that name. "I missed a call."

"Of course," she said. "Please, hold." There was a brief snatch of Mozart before a male voice spoke. "Sam, it's Professor Richmond. We met a few days ago."

"Of course," Sam said, his heart speeding to a tattoo against his ribs.

"I'll make this brief," he said, and Sam's heart sank. It had to be bad news. "I am pleased to offer you a place on our law program commencing September."

"Oh," Sam croaked. "Wow."

"Congratulations, Sam. A formal offer will be mailed to you, but I thought you would prefer the news sooner rather than later."

"Thank you," Sam said quickly. "Thank you so much."

"I'll let you go. I imagine you have some celebrating to do."

"Thank you," Sam said again, inwardly cringing at his inability to come up with any other words, and heard a chuckle on the line before the click.

He lowered the phone in his hand and stared at the clean tabletop. It didn't seem real.

"Well?" Jessica asked from the doorway.

Sam turned unsteadily, feeling the color drain from his face.

"Are we matriculating together or not?" she asked neutrally.

"Together?" Sam asked, his eyes widening.

She beamed at him. "I got in, too!"

Sam whooped and ran at her. He swept her into his arms and spun her. "We did it!" he shouted. "We got in!"

"Yes," she said gleefully.

Sam couldn't quite believe it. He was getting married, his had his real family back, and he'd gotten into one of the best law schools in the country. How was it possible that one man could be so happy?

It was perfect.

* * *

 **So… So much fluff in this one. I love to write the lighter stuff almost as much as I do the drama. It wasn't always that way. I didn't think I was capable. It took some experimentation and effort, but I soon grew to love the happy as well as the sad. That said, the drama is back in the next chapter.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for working your beta magic on this for me. Thank you also Gredelina1 for all your help. Thank you all for reading and reviewing. It means a lot to me.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Eleven**_

Jessica was jolted awake in the night by a noise. Her eyes snapped open and she found Sam sitting upright beside her, his chest heaving. She turned on the bedside light and saw his eyes were wide and staring.

"Baby?" she said gently. "What is it?"

"No," he whispered. "Please, no!"

She sat up and put a hand on his bare shoulder. "Sam, talk to me." An idea occurred to her and she felt her heart skip a beat. "Did you see something?"

Sam turned his haunted eyes to her. "Yes."

"Was it me again?"

He shook his head, and she felt a guilty wave of relief. She quickly pushed it aside and concentrated on helping Sam. He looked understandably scared. He'd not had a dream like this since Brady's attack. They'd both hoped it was a one-off after all. They'd been lulled into a false sense of security, protected from the reality of what was happening against the demon and for the war by John and Dean. They'd lived in their bubble of happiness for weeks, consumed with thoughts of classes, law school, weddings and families. They'd even had Thanksgiving dinner together with John and Dean without a mention of what was happening in the outside world.

"It was a woman," Sam went on, his voice taut with tension. "She was so scared Jess. I was just watching her there in the window, screaming for help."

"Okay," she said, her hand moving to the back of his neck and smoothing over the tight muscles. "We'll fix it."

"What do we do?" he asked desperately.

"We call John and Dean." She reached for her phone charging on the bedside table and unplugged it. She scrolled through her contacts until she got to Dean's number. She hit dial as she climbed out of bed and wrapped a robe around herself. Dean answered promptly, his voice alert despite the hour.

" _Jess? It's early. Are you okay?"_

"No," Jessica admitted. "It's Sam."

" _What's happened?"_ he asked, obviously worried.

"He had another dream."

" _Let me talk to him,"_ he said, his tone businesslike.

Jess handed the phone to Sam and said, "It's Dean."

He brought it to his ear, the muscles in his arm flexing with the strength of his grip. "Dean?"

There was a murmur on the line, and Sam said quickly, "It was a woman. She was in a house. I could see her at the window. She was screaming for help." He paused for a moment and then snapped, "I can't calm down! I think she was about to die. She was _so_ scared, Dean."

He turned away from Jessica and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know. It could have been anywhere. I saw a house and a tree, that's all. No, I didn't recognize her!"

Jessica walked around the bed to him and leaned her head against his shoulder. Touching him, she could feel the tremors working through him. She smoothed a hand up and down his back.

"No!" he said urgently. "You can't come here. You have to save her!"

He thrust the phone into Jessica's hand with a growl of frustration and then stormed out of the room. She raised the phone and said, "It's me."

" _Look, Jess, we're in Minnesota right now. We'll come as fast as we can, but you need to take care of him till we get there."_

"I will," she said. "But what are you going to do? We can't just leave this woman to die."

" _I know,"_ he said seriously. _"But how are we supposed to find her? Maybe if we can talk to Sam, see if there's some clue in what he saw that he's too panicked to think of right now, we can track her down. We have time. It might not happen for weeks yet. Sam dreamed about you for a while before anything happened."_

"Yeah."

" _So we have to hope that's what's happening again. Keep him calm. We're coming as fast as we can."_

"Okay," she said. "Drive fast."

She heard the smile in his voice as he answered. _"We will. It's going to be okay, Jess."_

She ended the call and went into the dark living room where Sam was sitting in an armchair with his head in his hands. Jessica flipped on a light and perched on the edge of the chair and wrapped an arm around him. "It's going to be okay," she said soothingly. "You'll be fine.

"Yeah, I'll be fine, but that poor woman won't. She's going to die, and I can't do a damn thing to save her."

"There's time. You had the dream of me for weeks before Brady tried to hurt me. Dean and John are coming, and they're going to help. Maybe you saw something else that you can't remember yet? When you're calm, there may be more. Or when you sleep. You might see something else.

"We don't have time. I feel it. I can't explain it, but whatever or whoever is going to do something to her is going to do it soon." Sam shuddered under her arm. "I saw her face, Jess. She's going to be so scared, just like I was when I thought I lost you. I need to save her."

Jessica drew a breath and tried to force away Sam's fear that was infecting her so she could think of a way to help him. "You told Dean you saw a tree," she said. "Do you know what type?"

He looked disbelievingly at her. "Jess, I grew up on cartoons and Gameboys. I wasn't out hiking on nature trails." He shook his head and drew in a deep breath, attempting to calm himself and clear his head. "Okay, it was old. That much I could I tell. And it was burned—like maybe it had been struck by lightning? But no, I couldn't tell what kind of tree it was."

That nixed that idea. Though Jessica hadn't really believed they would able to nail down a location with a tree; she was grasping at straws for any way to make Sam feel like he was doing something productive to help.

Sam leaned over to the table and picked up the telephone pad and pen they kept there. He began to sketch in the outline of a tree on it. It was vague and a little scary looking, and Jessica just watched the pen move for a moment, glad he had found something, anything to do other than panic.

Suddenly, he raised the pad and stared at it with a disbelieving look. "I've seen this before!"

"You have? Where?"

"I don't know. I've seen it though. It was in a painting or picture somewhere. I didn't see it in person."

"Okay," she said. "You just have to think of what pictures you've seen recently."

"It could have been years ago though."

"Try," she said. "I'll get some coffee."

She walked into the kitchen, thankful that she'd prepped the coffee pot the night before. She flipped it on and waited for it to brew, staring out of the window at the still dark sky.

When the coffee was ready, she poured two mugs, doctored her own and then carried them into the living room. Sam took his and sipped it with his eyes fixed on his drawing. Jessica sat on the side of the chair, her hand lying on Sam's arm. His expression vague, he began to turn the engagement ring on her finger absentmindedly. Suddenly, he leapt to his feet, the coffee sloshing in the mug and spilling onto the floor. She jumped up beside him and grabbed the mug from his hand and set it down on the table before he could burn himself.

"What?" she asked. "What is it?"

"I know where I've seen it," he said.

He raced from the room and into the bedroom. Confused, she followed him. He already had a duffel bag in his hands and was stuffing clothes into it.

"What are you doing?" she asked, catching his arm as he passed and turning him. He looked almost frightening. His eyes were wide and burning with a kind of fervor she had never seen before.

"I know where to find her," he said, pulling away from her and rushing into the living room with the bag slung over his shoulder.

"Stop! Talk to me, Sam," she begged.

"I remember," he said, grabbing his wallet from the sideboard and racing toward the door. "Call John. Tell him to meet me in Lawrence."

"You're going to Lawrence?" she said, astounded. "Why?"

"That's where she is." He stopped with his hand on the door. "Call John. Tell them where I'm going."

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"I'm going to save her." He rushed forward, kissed her, and then turned back to the door.

"It's almost the holidays," she said, trying desperately to divert him. "You probably won't get a flight."

"Then I'll fly as close as I can get and drive the rest. Hell, I'll drive the whole way if I have to. I love you, Jess."

He yanked the door open and rushed out, letting it swing closed behind him.

Jessica ran back into the living room and snatched her phone up. She dialed John's number and waited impatiently for it to be answered. She heard the rumble of the Impala's engine in the background before his terse voice said, "We're on our way."

"It's too late," Jessica said.

" _What? Why? Put Sam on."_

"I can't," she said desperately. "He' already gone."

" _Gone where?"_

"Lawrence. He saw this tree in his dream and he remembered where it was. He's on his way there now."

" _What tree?"_

"I don't know," she moaned. "It was old and dead. He said it looked like it had been struck by lightning?"

She heard a breath being sucked in on the line and then John said. _"It's okay. I know exactly where he's heading."_

"Where?" Jessica asked.

" _He's going home."_

"He's already home."

" _No,"_ John said. _"His first home."_

"You have to get there," she frantically. "He thinks he can save this woman. He has no idea what he's doing."

" _We'll be there. We'll protect him, I promise."_

"I'm scared, John."

" _I know,"_ he said soothingly. _"You don't need to be. Me and Dean will take care of it. Sam will be fine."_

Jessica closed her eyes and a tear slipped down her cheek. She tried to take comfort in John's words, but she couldn't help but think of Sam's vow of love as he left. It had felt like a goodbye.

* * *

John slammed the car to a halt outside Missouri's house behind a new model Nissan with a discreet rental car sticker in the window. He climbed out and rushed up the path and steps to the door, Dean on his heels. The door opened before he could knock, and Missouri was revealed on the threshold.

"Is he here?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, he is," she said, and then lowered her voice. "And he's scared."

"Of course he is," John said quietly.

"He's not feeling like his best self today either," she said in her normal volume. "You best come in."

She stepped back, and John walked through the hall and into the living room. Sam was sitting on the couch, his head bowed and his eyes fixed on a cup of murky liquid. John had forced down enough of Missouri's herbal tea to know that was what it was.

"Sam?" he said.

His head jerked up and he looked exquisitely relived. He put the cup down hard on the table and stood. "It's here! At the house in the picture, our old house. I saw the tree." As Missouri followed Dean into the room, he turned his eyes on her and said accusingly, "She wouldn't tell me where it is."

"Of course I wouldn't," Missouri said, sounding completely at ease. "What would you do if I did?"

"Save a woman's life!" Sam said.

"Sam, honey, I know what you saw in your dream, and it was night. It can't have happened already as I would have heard about it, so we have time to fix this."

Sam's hands fisted at his sides. John had never seen his son like this. It wasn't a Sammy Tantrum as they had known them in his childhood. It wasn't fear such as there had been when Jessica was hurt. Sam was angry. It was new, and it worried him. He wondered how they were going to persuade him to stay back and sit this out. Neither he nor Dean wanted Sam to be a part of this hunt. They'd discussed that in the car. He was a civilian, not a hunter. He needed to be safe.

"We have time," John said. "So let's sit and talk."

Sam sat down on the edge of the couch, looking as though he was prepared to spring into action at a moment's notice. His hands unclenched, and he gripped his knees.

Dean sat beside him and John and Missouri took the armchair and the other, smaller couch.

"It's going to be okay," Dean said quietly.

John nodded and leaned forward, his eyes fixed on his youngest son. "Tell us exactly what you saw."

"It was a woman," Sam said with the tone of someone that had told the story many times before. "She was at the window of this house, banging on the glass and screaming, though I couldn't hear her. She was terrified. Outside the house was this tree. It was old and gnarled, dead."

John glanced at Missouri and said, "And you can see it too?"

She nodded. "He's practically screaming it. It's your old place."

John raked a hand over his face. Despite the number of times he and Dean had been to Lawrence to visit Missouri over the years, they had never been back to that house. They hadn't even driven by it, even though it was very close by.

He saw Dean close his eyes for a moment, his expression strained, and John thought he knew where his thoughts were. Why did it have to be there? Why did they have to go back? John was thinking the exact same thing.

"I thought the house burned down," Sam said.

"The second floor got most of the damage," John said. "They rebuilt it."

John had gone there one last time a week after the fire to escort Missouri as she tried to get a sense of the thing that had killed Mary. He had taken the photographs from the shelves and a few of Sam and Dean's toys, and that had been all. He'd signed the papers to sell the wrecked house and plot of land and then he had taken the boys out on the road, the first leg of what had been an endless journey.

"We need to go back to the house," Dean said reluctantly. "What's our cover?"

Missouri smiled fondly. "Why don't you try the truth?"

"Seriously?" Dean asked. "You don't think she'd slam the door in our faces?"

"Some of the truth," Missouri amended. "Tell her you used to live there and want to look around. That's not a complete lie, and it saves Sam from having to risk everything by posing as a police officer."

John looked to Sam to see if this mention of the risk to his future would make him hesitate, but he was nodding eagerly. "Yeah. That's great. Can we go right now?"

"Okay," John said heavily. "Let's go."

Dean got to his feet and took a deep breath before following Sam who was already at the door.

"You keep an eye on your boy, John," Missouri said. "He's got no boundaries when it comes to saving this woman's life."

"I will," John said, following his boys outside.

Sam was walking towards the Impala, obviously eager to get going.

"We don't need to drive," John said. "It's just around the block."

Sam looked betrayed. "And she still didn't tell me? I could at least have checked it was the right house."

"She already knew it was," Dean reminded him. "Look, Sam, I know you want to get this done, make this woman safe, and we will, but we can't rush in. All that will do is get someone hurt."

"I know," Sam said. "I'm sorry. It's just… If you'd seen her face, you would understand."

"We do," Dean said seriously. "We see scared faces all the time. We're good at what we do though. We'll save her."

John glanced sharply at Dean. He thought that was a rash promise to make—one they might not be able to keep. They didn't know what was coming yet, and they didn't _always_ get there in time to save. They had forewarning this time, and that would give them a head start, but it wasn't a guarantee.

He set off along the street without comment, leading them to their old home and a new hunt.

"Whoa." Dean stopped, his face draining of color, as they turned the corner and saw the house.

It was almost unchanged. The clapboards were now painted light blue instead of white, and Mary's flowerbeds were gone, but the design they had used for the rebuild was almost exactly the same as it had been when their family had lived there. A van was parked out front with the name Thompson's Plumbing painted on the side.

John braced himself and said, "Come on then." He walked up to the door and knocked.

The door was opened by a pretty, young woman with a little boy in her arms. She smiled slightly at them, obviously confused.

"Hello. My name is John, and these are my boys, Dean and Sam. We used to live here and since we were in the area, we wondered if we could take a look around the old place."

"John…" she said thoughtfully. "Of course. The Winchesters."

John frowned, wondering if the story of their tragedy had been passed down with the house.

"What a strange coincidence," she went on. "I found some of your stuff in the basement just yesterday. Photos and things."

"Really?" Dean asked, looking animated instead of spooked now. Sam was the one that looked spooked. He was staring fixedly at the woman. John didn't need to ask to know this was the woman he had seen in his dream.

"Yeah," she said, a wide smile on her face now. "I'm Jenny and this here is Ritchie. We moved in a couple weeks ago. Come on in."

She stepped back to let them pass and with a slam of nostalgia, John walked inside. It was different inside, but it was still easy for John to picture it as it had been. The table and mirror on wall beside the entrance to the living room were missing but there was a rug in the same place John had Mary had put one. His eyes roved around the entry hall. There was the spot where Dean had taken his first steps from John into Mary's arms. Those were the sliding doors that led to the kitchen where Sammy's day crib had been. And the curving stairs that Dean tumbled down when he was three, they were the same. It was like stepping into a half-remembered dream.

"Don't mind the noise," she said cheerfully. "We've got an issue with the garbage disposal, and the repairman is working on it right now."

"It's fine," John said.

"It is very different to how you remember?" she asked.

"Surprisingly similar," Dean said.

"Would you like a drink?" she asked. "I've got a pot of coffee on."

"That would be great," John said, thinking it would be a good opener to conversation with her. They went into the kitchen where a man was rooting through a toolbox. He nodded to them as they entered and returned his attention to the sink.

Jenny put Ritchie into a playpen and then went to pour coffee. She looked up when a small toy monkey on the shelf began to clash its cymbals. "Weird," she muttered.

Dean and John exchanged a glance. John knew that Dean was as aware as he was that it could be a sign of a spirit in the house. Sam's eyes glanced to it for a moment and then turned his attention back to Jenny. He didn't seem able to stop himself from looking at her.

The monkey fell silent and Jenny laughed nervously. "Must be a ghost," she joked.

"Hey, be careful!" Dean said suddenly, moving towards the man at the sink. He had rolled up his sleeve and stuck his arm deep down into the disposal.

Dean had barely taken more than two steps before the machine came to life with a gurgling and grinding. The man howled in agony and John and Dean lurched forward. John grabbed the man's shoulders to support him as he reeled. Dean flipped the switch and the machine fell silent again. The man continued to howl with agony as he ripped his arm out of the drain. His hand was a mangled mess of blood, gore and bone. Jenny began to scream, and the child wailed.

John shouted, "Sam, get them out of here," as he eased the writhing man down to the floor.

He heard Sam speaking in soothing tones and assumed he'd obeyed.

"Dean, give me your belt," he said, pinching his hands just above the man's elbow in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood. Dean fumbled with his belt and then dropped to his knees beside John. "Cinch it above my hands," John instructed. "Hold it as tight as you can."

Sam spoke behind him. "They're settled in the other room. What can I do?" he asked.

"Call an ambulance," John said tersely. "We're at 485 Robintree. Tell them to hurry."

The man's movements had slowed and his breaths were coming shallower now.

"Hold on," John encouraged. "You're going to be fine." He had seen worse injuries in the war when men had stepped on landmines, but Dean hadn't seen anything quite like it. John saw that, although he was pale, he was dealing. His teeth gritted as his pulled hard on the belt.

Sam was speaking behind him on the phone, his words clear and concise despite the obvious fear in his voice.

"You hang on," John said, speaking to both the man and his sons. "Just hang on." He was outwardly strong, calm, in control, but inwardly he was afraid. He had held onto a shred of hope that Sam's dream of Jessica was an anomaly, and this new one just a nightmare, but as the man slowly bleeding out on the floor showed, there was something evil in this house.

* * *

Sam felt sick. He had been around hospitals most of his life with James, and he had seen some terrible things and handled it, but seeing such trauma in a kitchen, far from doctors and people that could save, was different. It was harrowing, and he wondered how much more he could handle. The only comfort he had was that John and Dean had saved the man's life long enough for him to be carried away in an ambulance.

Jenny was on her knees with a bucket and rag, trying to mop up the blood. "How can this happen?" she asked. "It's not possible. Garbage disposals don't just come to life on their own."

John laid a hand on her shoulder and said, "Leave that for a moment. Talk to us."

"I can't. My daughter Sari will be home soon, and I don't want her to see this."

"I'll do it," Sam said, bending and plucking the rag from her hand. "You sit down."

She allowed John to help her to her feet and lead her to a chair at the table. He sat opposite her and leaned forward while Dean stood against the counter. Sam began to run the rag through the blood, wringing it out over the bucket and then going back to the smeared pool.

"How long as it been happening?" John asked gently.

"Has what been happening?" she asked.

"The things you can't explain."

"There's nothing I can't explain," she said. "There are perfectly reasonable explanations for all this stuff."

"What stuff?" Dean asked.

She sighed. "The wiring is shot, so there's flickering lights. Of course. The faulty wiring. That's probably what made the garbage disposal start up. And there are rats in the walls and basement. I hear them scratching there. And old windows are drafty. That's why it's so cold sometimes."

Dean and John exchanged a look and nodded as if they already knew what was happening. Sam hoped they did, because if Jenny was going to continue to deny there was anything else going on, they needed all the help they could get. Sam wasn't opposed to physically dragging her out of her house to save her life, but it would mean putting pretty much everything he'd ever worked for in his life on the line.

"Okay," Dean said. "You've got drafts and rats and bad electrics. But what about what happened today? You saw that toy monkey coming to life with no one near it, and a minute later the disposal come on with a man's hand stuffed down it and nobody near the switch. There's no explaining that."

"The wiring. I already told you," she said.

John shook his head. "Bad wiring wouldn't do that."

"Who are you people?" she asked accusingly. "What are you really doing here?"

"We didn't lie," John said. "You saw our photos, so you know that we used to live here. We wanted to see the place, but we also wanted to make sure you were safe."

"Why would you think I wasn't safe?" she asked.

Sam's gaze snapped to his father. He waited with bated breath to see what answer he would give, whether he would expose Sam's dreams.

"Because we know this house," John said.

She bowed her head and ran her hands over her face. "It's been one thing after another. We moved here because it was cheap, and when my husband died he didn't leave us much, but the house seems to be falling apart. I haven't been able to find a job yet and Sari has been having these nightmares ever since we arrived."

"Nightmares?" Sam asked, pausing in his mopping to look up at her.

Jenny nodded. "She thinks there's something in her closet. She keeps talking about fire."

Sam felt the color drain from his face. Fire. Nightmares. In this house, it couldn't just be coincidence, could it? Was Sari one of the people like him, one of the special children the demon mentioned?

Dean came to squat beside him. "I think you've done what you can there, Sam. I'll get us some water and we can clean up what's left. Jenny, do you have some more rags?"

"Uh, yeah, in the utility room. I'll get them." She gestured to a door leading off the opposite wall.

"It's okay. We can do it." He lowered his voice to a whisper and said, "It's okay. We'll work it out."

Sam nodded and stood. He took the out Dean offered and went to the utility room. Dean followed him with the bucket in his hand. He began to rinse it in the sink and over the rush of water he said, "Are you okay?"

"Nightmares," Sam said quickly. "What if Jenny's daughter is having dreams like me? She could be seeing more of what I saw. What if the demon is coming here again?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't think so. It sounds more like a malevolent spirit. That's better. We know how to take care of that."

"And the girl's dreams?" Sam asked.

"Maybe they're not dreams. Maybe she's actually seeing the spirit." He filled the bucket and said, "You ready to go back in?"

Sam nodded, grabbed a pile of rags from the counter and they went back into the kitchen. Dean soaked a rag in the water and began to clean up the remaining smears of blood.

"I can't cushion this for you," John was saying. "This isn't bad wiring or rats. It's something dangerous. We can help you, but only if you let us. We need to bring a friend over. She'll get a feel for the house and tell us what we're dealing with."

Jenny looked strained and Sam thought she still didn't believe them. "If I let you bring this person here, will you leave me alone after?"

"If that's what you still want, we will," John said.

Sam gaped at him and John shook his head very slightly. Satisfied that they weren't going to just abandon this woman to whatever was coming for her, Sam went back to mopping up.

"Okay," she said. "Bring whoever you want, do what you want, and then leave."

John stood and looked at Sam. "Sam, you mind fetching Missouri for us?"

"I'll be right back," Sam said, standing and making for the door. He jogged around the block to Missouri's house and knocked hard on the door. She was expecting him, already pulling on her coat, and Sam didn't have to say a word of explanation.

"Okay, honey," she said. "Let's get this taken care of."

She closed the door behind her and trotted along the path onto the street with Sam walking along at her side. His mind was racing, turning over what he'd heard about the little girl's dreams and Dean's theory that it was a spirit.

"I don't think she's the same as you," she said. "I would have sensed the shine in someone else so close."

"Like you can me," Sam said.

She nodded.

"Did you know when you first met me that there was something wrong with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you, Sam. You're not cursed. You just have abilities outside what other people do. And no, I didn't know what it was. I sensed something in you, but it was vague. It hadn't manifested before you saw me, had it?"

"No. The dreams started when I got home. You can sense me now though?"

"Boy oh boy, can I."

They had reached the house and she walked up the path to the door. Jenny opened it with Ritchie in her arms again. Missouri's face fell into lines of sorrow. "There's no need to be afraid," she said gently. "These people will take care of it."

Jenny frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Missouri's psychic," John said behind her.

Missouri patted Jenny's arm and said, "You don't have to believe. As long as you let us help."

She bustled past Jenny and went up the stairs. "Let's have a look then." Sam followed her to the second door on the hall, which she walked to unerringly. They walked into a neat bedroom with light blue walls and a pink bedspread.

"If there's a center-point for what's happening, it'll be here," she said.

"Why?" Sam asked.

She looked at him sadly. "This used to be your nursery, Sam.

Sam's eyes moved to ceiling and he shuddered. He could almost see the face he knew from photographs imposed there, terrified, seconds from death as Jessica had been in his dream. The mother he would never remember suddenly felt very close to him.

Missouri held a hand over the desk. "Who-ee. Here we go."

"What is it?" John asked from the doorway.

"This is the spot, all right?" She glanced toward the closet. "There is definitely something here."

Sam looked around the room as if he would be able to see the menace that was wreaking havoc on the house and his dreams. Suddenly, he heard a shout from downstairs as pain seared through his head. He saw a flash of images: a closed refrigerator door, a pool of milk on the floor, Jenny's face haunted with pain, a too small coffin. He cried out both from the pain of it and the horror.

"Sammy! What is it?" Dean's voice was calling to him, but he couldn't answer. He had to move, but he was frozen.

He forced his eyes open and took in his surroundings. He was bent over on the floor, his head in his hands. Someone's hand was on his back, and his name was being called by John and Dean.

He pushed up from the floor unsteadily and looked into Missouri's eyes. She looked just as horrified as him. "Go!" she said urgently.

He staggered out of the room and down the stairs. Jenny was running up and down the hall, calling for Ritchie. Sam pushed past her and into the kitchen. He fumbled for a moment with the child lock and then, failing, wrenched open the fridge door, ripping the plastic lock away from the side. Ritchie was sitting on the shelf, his eyes wide and scared. Sam pulled him out and hugged him against his chest.

"Ritchie!" Jenny appeared and dragged Ritchie out of Sam's arms and into her own. She buried her face into his neck and cried harsh sobs.

"Sam!" John appeared beside him, his hands coming to Sam's back as he swayed. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"The kid was trapped in the fridge," he said weakly, adrenaline leaving him now and making him feel faint with the pain that was still pulsing through his head. "The ghost locked him in."

John turned on Jenny and said in a growl, "Now do you believe us?"

"It's not…" Sam started and then slumped backwards, his head swimming. Someone caught him and held him up as he tried to breathe through the pain.

"It's okay, Son," John said in his ear. "I've got you. You're going to be fine."

* * *

 **So… Slight diversion from the fluffy happy stuff with this one. What did you think? There's obviously more to tell, so make sure to come back to see how this version of 'Home' turns out.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for the fabulous beta job. Thank you also Gredelina1 for your help. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Twelve**_

Dean was worried about his brother. Sam looked like hell. He was sitting slumped on the couch beside John in Jenny's living room, and his bloodshot eyes were fixed on his clasped and tremoring hands.

Jenny came into the room with Ritchie on her hip. Dean thought she was going to have trouble letting him go for a while still. She was trailed by a little girl that looked nervous in the face of so many strangers.

"Sari, this is John and his sons, Sam and Dean," Jenny said cheerily. "And this is Missouri. They're friends of Mommy's."

Sari sat down on the couch opposite and watched Sam as he looked up and forced a smile for her. "Hello. Sari," he said, his voice still not as strong as Dean would have liked.

"Hi," she said quietly. She leaned forward. "You look sick."

"I feel it," Sam said conspiratorially with a wink.

"These people are going to help us," Jenny said.

Sari's eyes widened. "With the monster?"

Jenny's lips pressed into a thin line. Dean thought she was about to dispute the presence of a monster and he wanted to know more, so he spoked before she could. "What monster, Sari?"

"The monster in my closet," she said. "It comes out at night, and it's all made of fire."

"It's just a dream though, right, Dean?" Jenny said pointedly.

"Yes," Dean said quickly. "Just a scary dream."

"Then what are you here to do?" Sari asked, looking disheartened.

"Mommy says there's some things wrong with your lights. We're going to fix them while you, Ritchie, and your mom go to the movies."

Sari brightened. "Ice cream, too?"

"Definitely ice-cream," Dean said, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. He pulled out a twenty and held it out to Sari. "You can choose the flavor."

"You don't need to do that," Jenny said. "You're already doing enough."

Dean waved away her words, focused on the bright smile on the little girl's face.

"Sari, why don't you go and get yourself a drink?" Jenny said. "Let us have a quick talk, and then we can head out."

Sari stood and bounced out of the room happily.

John waited until they could hear her moving around in the kitchen and then he looked at Missouri. "Okay. What are we dealing with here? Is it the demon?"

Missouri shook her head. "It's not demonic, but it is just as evil. And it's not alone. There are two spirits here. One of them is so strong it almost drowns out the other. I can't get a handle on the second, but the first is a poltergeist."

Dean sighed and ran a hand over his face. They'd taken out dozens of malevolent spirits over the years, but they'd never come up against an actual poltergeist. They were nastier than regular spirits as they didn't care who they hurt. They weren't focused on revenge or righting wrongs, they were just evil. He knew there were ways to cleanse a place to expel one, but they'd not used them before.

"A poltergeist," Jenny said weakly. "This can't be real."

"It is real," John said. "You've seen too much to deny it now. It's already tried to kill your son once. Don't give it a chance to do it again."

She kissed Ritchie's hair and then asked, "What do I have to do?"

"Leave us to work," John said. "Take your kids to the movies, get ice-cream, a burger, do anything but don't come back before we call you. Understand?"

She nodded slowly.

"I mean it," he said. "You have to protect your children. Do not come back until we say. It's going to be a lot more dangerous once we get to work and you cannot let them be here."

"Okay," she said. "We'll go. Are you going to be okay though?" Her eyes drifted to Sam who was slumped against the back of the couch again.

Dean knew she was questioning his ability to help. What she didn't know was that Sam wasn't going to be a part of this hunt. He was going to stay at Missouri's, hopefully sleeping, until it was over.

"We'll be fine," John assured her. "Now get what you need and go."

She stood and walked out of the room, calling for Sari.

They waited for her and the children to be ready and then saw them out of the door. When they had driven away, Missouri glanced back in the house, seeming to be sensing something outside of what they could. "We better get to work," she said.

When they got back to her house, Missouri went into the kitchen and Sam flopped onto the couch with a sigh.

"You okay?" Dean asked, realizing as he did that it was a stupid question.

Sam nodded though. "Yeah, it's not so bad."

"What exactly happened?" John asked.

Sam raised his eyes. "I saw what was going to come after. It wasn't like when I dreamed of Jess or Jenny. I didn't see it as it happened. I just saw the results." He shuddered. "That kid was going to die. I saw his coffin."

"And it hurt," John stated.

"Like nothing I've ever felt before," he said. "It was like something cleaved my skull in two." He looked afraid. "Why's this happening? Why did it happen when I'm awake?"

"Because you're getting stronger," Missouri said, coming into the room with a tray of teacups in her hands. She set it down on the coffee table and handed one to Sam. He took it with a poorly disguised grimace, and she said, "My tea will help more than any amount of coffee."

Sam nodded and took a sip. "Thanks," he said quietly.

"What do you mean getting stronger?" John asked.

"Sam's abilities are like a glow to me; I can see it coming from him. He was an oil lamp before we went back into that house, but now he's a beacon."

"The house did this to me?" Sam asked.

"It's not something that was done to you, Sam," she said. "It's something you are."

Dean wondered if that was that true though. Brady had said Mary interrupted the demon the night she was killed. What had the demon been doing to him? Had it done something that made Sam see these things?

Missouri gave him a sharp look, and he realized she was following his thoughts. "We should get to work," she said. "Dean, come help me get some bits together."

Dean followed her into the kitchen and spoke in a whisper. "Do you know what it did to him?" he asked.

"No," she said. "I knew when I met Sam that he was special, but I didn't know how. He has the shine, but there's something more there underneath. I can't get a sense of it, as the shine overpowers it."

"What does it mean for him though?"

"It means he needs to be protected," she said.

Like that was news. They were already doing their best to protect him from the demon that apparently wanted something from him.

"He's got a gift," she continued. "I think what happened tonight was only the start of it."

"He's going to see more things like that?" Dean asked. "He's going to hurt like that again?"

She looked sadly at him. "I think so."

She went to a breadbox and began pulling out small bags of herbs and powders and handing them to Dean. She opened a drawer and took four small swatches of fabric.

"First things first," she said. "Let's take care of that poltergeist."

Dean was surprised but pleased that Sam looked a little better when they went back into the living room. There was color in his cheeks again and his eyes were clearer. He had an empty cup in his hands and he nodded at Missouri as she smiled, satisfied.

"I told you it would help," she said.

She set the swatches of fabric down on the table and pulled up a chair. Dean handed her the ingredients he was holding and sat down beside her as John and Sam came over.

Sam looked curiously down at pile of bags. "What are we doing?" he asked.

"The only way to get rid of a poltergeist is to cleanse the house. This here's Angelica Root, Van-Van oil, and crossroads dirt. We mix them with these herbs and put them into hex bags. We place one at each compass point of the house and the spell will expel the spirit."

"It's that easy?" Sam asked.

"No," John said. "This is going to be anything but easy. Once that spirit knows we're coming for it, it's going to be angry. It will be violent and cruel. We will have to be fast."

Sam nodded thoughtfully and watched Missouri as she piled the ingredients onto the fabric, twisted it into a bag and tied the top with a strip of leather cord.

Dean thought he knew what his brother was thinking, and he knew he had to nip that in the bud.

"You're not coming, Sam," he said firmly.

Sam looked up, his eyebrows low and his expression betrayed. "Why not?"

Dean was exasperated. "Didn't you listen to what Dad said? It's going to be dangerous."

"I heard," Sam said. "I'm still coming though." He looked down at Missouri's preparations again as if the topic was closed.

"You are not," Dean said, appealing to his father with his eyes.

John considered for a moment. "Dean's right. It's not safe for you."

"But it is for you?" Sam asked.

"We're hunters," Dean said. "We promised to protect you. This is us doing that."

A familiar stubborn look settled on Sam's face; his eyes narrowed and his jaw jutted out.

"You weren't a hunter either, Dean," Missouri said before Dean could speak again. "But when you took out your first werewolf, you became one."

"Sam is not going to be a hunter," John said immovably.

"Agreed," Sam said, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "But I am coming after this spirit with you."

"Why?" John asked.

"Because I saw it," Sam said. "I'm _supposed_ to save her. Why else would I have seen it? I know I'm not a hunter, but I am going to do what I'm meant to."

"Let him come," Missouri said serenely, cinching the last bag closed. "There are four points of the compass to ward, and it'll be safer for us all if we each take one."

"You're coming, too?" Dean asked, thinking of the danger the older woman would be in.

"Yes," Missouri said. "Unless you're going to tell me I'm not a hunter either."

"I don't like this," Dean said.

Sam shrugged, apparently unconcerned. "That's okay. No one said you had to. Just as long as you accept it."

Dean looked at John and saw the same worry in his eyes that he felt. But he nodded though, and said. "Fine. If we're doing this, we better go. Sooner it's over, the better."

* * *

The house seemed to hold even more menace when they returned. Dean wondered if it was because the spirit knew they were coming for it or if it was his fear for Sam and Missouri that infected him.

They let themselves in and all hesitated in the hall.

"Where do I go?" Sam asked, toying with the hammer John had given him.

Dean wanted to say back to Missouri's, but he held his tongue.

"You take north," John said. "The master bedroom is there. I'll take the living room. Missouri?"

"The basement's good for me," she said easily, lifting her small axe.

"You've got the kitchen then, Dean," he said.

Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder, resisted the need to urge him to be careful again, and then walked into the kitchen. He heard footsteps in the stairs and the murmur of John and Missouri's voices before they faded away, too.

He tapped along the wall over the counter, looking for a good spot to start, and stopped when he heard a hollow echo. He lifted his ax and struck the wall. A hole began to appear, and then heard a squeak. He turned and saw a drawer had opened. A carving knife floated out of it and then came whipping at him. He threw himself out of the way just before it impaled itself in the wall exactly where his hand had been. He heard a clink of metal and four more knives were floating out of the drawer. He grabbed the table and pulled it in front of him and ducked behind. There were thudding sounds and he saw the tips of the blades poking through the wood.

Hoping the knives were spent, he leapt to his feet and struck at the wall until a small hole formed, large enough for him to shove in the bag. His hands flew up to cover his face as a bright, white light pulsed through the room. He breathed a sigh of relief that froze in his throat as he heard a scream coming from beneath him.

He raced out of the room and through the open basement door. He thundered down the stairs, hearing someone following, and skidded to a stop in front of Missouri. She was pinned to the wall by a heavy table. He grabbed the end of the table and yanked on it, but it didn't budge.

"The bag, Dean," John shouted, pushing him aside and trying to heave the table away, the cords on his neck standing out.

Dean grabbed up the bag from the floor and shoved it inside the hole Missouri had evidently created. The light flew through the room again and he turned back in time to support her as John pulled the table away.

She was panting for breath and trying to speak, but Dean couldn't make out the words.

"It's over," he soothed. "You're okay."

She was shaking her head jerkily, her eyes wide and afraid.

"What?" John asked intensely.

Dean knew even before the word left her mouth what she was going to say, and he released his hold on her and ran for the stairs, her gasping voice behind him saying, "Sam!"

Dean pounded up the stairs and into the hall and then up to the second floor, his brother's name ripping from him in his panic. There was no response and he ran at the only open door, praying he wasn't too late. He shouldn't have let him come, he thought desperately. He should have forced him to stay at Missouri's house where it was safe.

When he flew into the room, he saw a nightmare. Sam was lying prone on the floor, a lamp behind his head and the cord wrapped round his neck. He was barely moving. Dean dropped beside him and yanked on the cord, but it was too tight. He couldn't even give Sam an inch to draw a breath through.

Sam's eyes were fixed on him but there was no relief there. He looked at Dean almost apologetically.

"Don't you dare give up," he growled. "Hold on. Dad!" The last was a bellow.

John rushed past them with a kind of moan and grabbed up the hex bag that was held loosely in Sam's hand. There was a bang, but Dean didn't look to see what he was doing. His attention was on his brother's blue lips and half-mast eyes that were becoming unfocused as Dean heaved at the cord.

"Sammy!" he shouted. "Look at me!"

The light pulsed over the room and the cord suddenly loosened around Sam's neck enough for him to draw a wheezing breath.

John dropped to his knees behind Sam as Dean dragged him up into his arms. Sam seemed boneless, and he swayed in his grip. "You're okay," Dean was saying, his hands on Sam's back, feeling the breaths moving him.

John unknotted the cord and threw it away.

"Sam?" he said, crawling around to look into his face. "Are you okay?"

Dean felt Sam nodding against his shoulder, but he still didn't speak. Dean thought maybe he couldn't yet. His hand came up to cradle the back of his head as John pushed his hair back from his face.

"Thank God," John whispered. "Thank you, God."

 **So... Sam took on a hunt and almost got strangled by a lamp. Hands up if you think that's going to stop him tagging along in future ;-)**

 **Until next time...**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing this for me and being so quick to answer the random questions I've been sending you lately. It's much appreciated. Thank you also Gredelina1 for keeping me going with support and positivity. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Thirteen**_

Sam walked under his own power back to Missouri's house. John and Dean walked at his sides, bracketing him as if they expected him to drop any moment. It wasn't a completely unrealistic worry. He felt wrecked. The combination of the vision and the strangulation had exhausted him, and each breath he drew in burned his abused windpipe. He knew they thought he was stupid for insisting on going with them, but he had needed to be there for himself. He had to make something good come of his visions. Otherwise they were just a painful curse.

As they walked down the street, Sam turned back to the house and said in a rasping voice, "It is over, isn't it, Missouri?"

She glanced back at him. "I believe it is. Why? Have you seen something else?"

Sam shook his head. "It's just a feeling."

"You've been through a lot," she said, turning and continuing along the street.

When they got to her house, Missouri walked ahead up the path, her gait a little unsteady, and unlocked her door for them. In her hands was the box Jenny had given them upon leaving, after she'd reacted to the kitchen table impaled with knives and the holes gouged in her walls.

The knives had scared Sam. The way he saw it, the lamp cord would have been a better end than being stabbed by one of them. He couldn't believe Dean had made it out of there alive. He knew that if it had been him that had been in the kitchen, he would have been killed. He wouldn't have been fast enough to dodge them or quick-thinking enough to use the table as a shield. He would have attempted to run.

John and Dean were right; he wasn't a hunter. He didn't have their instincts. He had barely turned to see what the noise was when the lamp had fallen before the cord was around his neck. The fear he had felt in those moments, as life was being choked out of him, was matched only by the fear he'd felt when he'd thought he was losing Jessica after Brady's attack. He hadn't been able to call for help, and when help had come, it had been somehow worse. Seeing Dean's desperate attempts to save him had been heartbreaking because Sam had been certain it was too late for him. He'd thought Dean was going to be forced to watch him die.

They entered Missouri's house and followed her into the living room.

"Sit down, Sam," John instructed, and Sam obeyed without complaint.

Missouri set the box down on the table and walked back into the kitchen. Dean sat beside him, close enough that their shoulders were brushing and John sat opposite.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the ER and get checked out?" John asked, repeating the question both he and Dean had asked at the house.

"I'm sure," Sam said, his voice hoarse.

Missouri came back with an icepack in her hands. She handed it to Sam and said, "Hold this on it. It will help."

Sam took it and brought it to his throat. The cold made him shudder at first as it touched the tender skin, but then it soothed as it leached feeling from the area.

"Thanks," he said.

Missouri nodded and took a seat. "So, let's see what you've got here," she said.

John leaned forward and opened the small wooden box. His eyes lit up as he took out an old and battered baseball. "This was mine," he said. "Before the war, I was on a local team. I got a home run in our league's final game and they gave me the game ball." He looked at Dean. "You remember me telling you about that?"

"Yeah," Dean said with a look of wondering realization. "You used to pretend the hits I got were homeruns. Even if they only made a few feet."

John nodded. "This was the ball."

He picked out a pile of glossy photographs and rubbed his thumb over one of them with a wistful smile before holding it out to Dean. Dean sucked in a breath and showed the photo to Sam. It was a family shot of John, Mary and a young Dean. In Mary's arms was a baby that Sam realized must be him. "She looks so happy," he said, not aware that he was speaking the thought aloud until he heard it.

"She was," John said. "We all were. She loved you boys so much."

Sam felt his eyes burn as he looked at his young self, safely enclosed in his mother's arms with his father behind and his brother beside him. It seemed grossly unfair that he would never remember her. He would only ever have these images of his mother to hold on to.

He thought of Jenny and her family. They had saved them tonight, protected them. Because of what they had done, Sari and Ritchie would have their mother with them. Jenny wouldn't be a memory for Sari as Mary was for Dean or an image captured on paper like she would have been for Ritchie.

He shuddered again. He felt an omnipresent pressure settle over him. He found it hard to draw a breath, but he knew it had nothing to do with his injuries.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked, looking at him with concern.

"I don't know," Sam said. "Something feels wrong." He looked to Missouri and she answered his unasked question.

"It's over, Sam. I can feel nothing from that house anymore.

"Are you sure?" he asked again.

"It feels that way at first," Dean said knowledgably. "Even when it's tough, like it was tonight, it still feels like it was too easy. You have to learn to let it go."

Sam nodded but he still felt that shade of wrongness.

"It's natural to feel something wrong," John said. "You went through something terrible tonight. Maybe you should get some sleep."

"There are beds made up for you upstairs," Missouri said. "You'll feel better in the morning."

"Yeah, maybe," Sam said. "I'll go out and call Jess and then I'll head up."

He set down the icepack and stood. He walked out the door but hesitated before closing it as he heard Dean speak. "He's okay, right?"

"He was almost choked to death tonight by a lamp," John replied. "He's going to be jumpy for a while."

The door clicked closed and Sam scowled. This wasn't just a side effect of trauma, he was sure.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and hit the speed dial. Jessica answered after only one ring, as if she had been sitting beside the phone waiting for the call.

"Sam? Are you okay? What's happening?"

"I'm fine," he said hoarsely.

"What's wrong with your voice? Have you been crying? Have you been hurt?"

"I was choked by a lamp," he said unthinkingly.

"You were what?" she shouted.

Sam held the phone away from his ear. "It's okay, Jess. I'm fine now." Though was he? He felt as if there was a heavy weight on his chest. Not the weight of a delayed injury, but the weight of foreboding.

He started walking along the path and onto the street. "We found the woman in my dream…" he started. As he walked, he told her everything that had happened, from meeting Jenny to the plumber's mangled hand and his vision of Ritchie. He skated over the details of his strangulation and finished with the box of mementoes Jenny had given them, giving detail to the photograph of him in Mary's arms.

"So, it's over," she asked. "You're coming home now?"

"I think so," he said doubtfully

"Why wouldn't you?" she asked. "We're going to Mom and Dad's."

"I don't know, Jess," he said, turning the corner and realizing his feet had led him back to Jenny's street. "I'm probably going to look a little scary for a while. I think I should…"

He trailed off as he sucked in a painful breath. There was movement at an upstairs window of the house. For a moment he thought it was the dream transplanting itself into his waking mind, but as he jogged closer he saw Jenny's eyes fix on him. The scream he had been unable to see clearly in his dream was his name mingled with a cry for help.

"Jess, call John," he said tersely "Tell him it's happening again."

"What's happening?" Jessica asked, panicked.

"I've got to go," Sam said, and without another word he ended the call and stuffed the phone back into his pocket as he ran toward the house.

He tried the door, but Jenny had locked it. He stepped back and kicked the door. It didn't budge and he growled his anger, stepping back and kicking it again. This time the lock gave way and the door flew open. He could hear screaming, Jenny begging him for help. He raced toward the sound, shouting her name. He came to the bedroom he'd been attacked in and rattled the handle.

"Jenny!" he shouted.

"I can't get out!" she screamed.

"Stand back."

He gave her a moment to obey before shoving his shoulder at the door. It didn't budge and he pulled back and kicked it instead. It flew open and he raced inside. Jenny was cowering by the window and he grabbed her by the shoulders. "Get out!" he shouted in her face.

"The kids!"

"I'll get them," he shouted back at her, each word causing his throat to burn painfully.

"No, I…"

"Protect them by protecting yourself! Don't leave them alone!"

He saw the anguish on her face but he didn't look to see if she would obey. He ran back into the hall and busted down the next door. Ritchie was in his crib, standing and gripping the sides. His face fell as he saw Sam and he began to cry. Sam snatched him out of the crib and carried him back out of the room.

He almost ran into Jenny as she stood rattling a door on the other side of the hall. "Take him," Sam said, thrusting him into her arms. "Get him out."

"Sari!"

"I'll get her!"

This time she obeyed. She ran to the stairs, Ritchie's wails echoing behind them.

He didn't bother to try the door, having seen Jenny's failure. He just kicked at the lock and the door flew back. A wave of heat hit him and he staggered back a couple steps before mastering himself. The room was in flames that almost completely surrounded the bed Sari cowered on, the bedclothes pulled up to her chin, screaming.

Sam pushed himself forward, into the heat, and lifted her from the bed. She clung to him with a fierce grip. "Close your eyes," he commanded.

He turned them and stepped through the flames that seemed to be seeking them out. The hallway was mercifully free of fire and he coursed down the stairs and into the hall. "You're okay," he was chanting. "You're fine."

He got almost to the door when he felt something grab his leg. He dropped Sari as he was pulled flat on his stomach.

"Run!" he bellowed agonizingly.

He felt himself skidding backwards as he was yanked across on the floor. He collided hard with a table and the hold on him released. He scrambled to his feet and tried to head back towards the door, but an invisible force shoved him into a wall.

Unable to move an inch, he could merely watch as a flaming figure appeared in front of him and walked towards him.

* * *

John was looking at the photographs that Jenny had found in the basement. His beloved Mary's face captured on camera, beaming with happiness as she held her boys and stood with John. His eyes stung.

"You really think Sam will be okay?" Dean asked.

John looked up. "He'll be fine. He just needs to rest. Jess will help him."

Dean nodded but didn't look completely comforted.

John's phone buzzed in his pocket. He was expecting a call from Jim, whom they'd left very suddenly when Sam had called, but it was Jessica's name displayed on the screen

He answered with a frown. "Jess? I thought you were talking to Sam."

"It's happening again!" she said quickly. "Sam needs you."

John lurched to his feet. "What's happening? What did he say?" He waved Dean into silence as he demanded to know what was being said.

"It's happening! That's all he said!" He could hear the tears in her voice. "You have to help him, John!"

John thrust the phone into Missouri's hand and ran for the door, shouting for Dean over his shoulder. He went straight to the trunk and popped it open. He grabbed a salt-loaded shotgun and ax, and then shoved his .45 into the back of his pants. Dean appeared beside him and began grabbing things as well.

John set off at a run down the street, swerving around the corner and bolting to his old house. Jenny was on the lawn, her children in her arms and her terrified eyes fixed on the door. Sam was nowhere in sight.

"Jenny!" he shouted. "Where's Sam?"

"Something got him," Sari said tearfully.

He turned to Jenny, demanding information with his glare alone.

"He got us out," she said weakly. "I don't know what happened though. Sari ran out but then the door slammed closed. The house is on fire!"

John looked up at the second floor window and saw flames reflected on the glass.

Dean rushed past them and ran at the door. He shoved at it but it didn't move, even though the lock was clearly broken already. He stepped back and aimed a kick to the side of the lock, but the door merely rattled.

"Move," John said curtly, raising the ax.

Dean lurched out to the way and watched John with tortured eyes as he swung the ax at the door. The wood split and John ripped the ax free and swung again. It took five strikes until the wood was weakened enough to kick the rest free and squeeze inside. Dean rushed ahead of him, shouting Sam's name. He could hear no response though and John's heart chilled with fear. He was terrified that this time they were too late.

"Sam!" There was panic in Dean's voice, and John ran after him into the kitchen. Sam seemed to be pinned to the wall, his hands held flat at his sides and his head twisted to the side. There was a figure of fire standing in the middle of the room.

John raised his shotgun as Dean did the same at his side.

"No!" Sam said, his voice barely audible. "Don't!"

John hesitated. "Why?"

"Because know who it is. I can see her now."

John's gaze moved from Sam to the fiery figure and he saw the flames withdraw and the form coalesce into the familiar but impossible face of his beloved wife.

"Mary," he breathed, the shotgun lowering automatically.

She smiled at him, but her mesmerizing eyes whose power if not color Sam had inherited were sad. "John."

Tears spilled down his cheeks and his throat closed. He struggled to force out the words he had said to her so many times in dreams. "I'm sorry." He was apologizing for all his failures: for not saving her, for letting Sam be taken and for stealing Dean's childhood.

"I know," she said, casting him another smile before walking toward Dean and saying his name with adoration.

His eyes were wet and his expression stunned as he looked at her. "Mom," he said in a moan.

She seemed to drag her eyes from Dean's face and approached Sam slowly where he was still pinned to the wall. John wondered what she saw there. Was she searching for the features of a baby in a man's face, or did she see the red and bruising neck from the injury John had failed to protect him from?

"Sam," she said gently, her face wearing the same adoring smile she had held for Dean.

"Mom," he rasped, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Her smile faded. "I'm sorry."

Sam frowned. "For what?"

She didn't answer. She cast him one last look of longing before turning and looking up at the ceiling. "You get out of my house. And let go of my son."

Flames erupted around her again, and John barely formed a protest and cry of her name before the fire spread and consumed her. The flames roared up to the ceiling and disappeared. Sam fell away from the wall and Dean rushed at him, supporting him as he sagged.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked urgently.

Sam nodded and looked over Dean's shoulder to John. "Now it's over."

* * *

John and Dean were in the house, dousing the last of the flames in Sari's bedroom, and Sam and Missouri were sitting on the front porch. Sam had tried to help them, but they'd sent him out, brooking no argument. Sam knew that he'd scared them enough for one day already, so he acquiesced.

Sam felt tired and sore, but Missouri looked worse. Dean said she'd been pinned to a wall in the basement by a table, and it looked as though she was still suffering from it. Her smile was soft as she looked at Sam though. "How are you feeling, honey?" she asked gently.

Sam touched his neck gingerly. "I've been better."

"I'm sure you have, but that's not what I meant. You went through something today."

Sam shrugged. "I'm okay, I guess. I'd rather not do it again any time soon, but it wasn't all bad."

He was thinking of his mother. He would go through it all again if he gave him another chance to see her face. She had been impossibly more beautiful than he'd seen in photographs. Ink and paper hadn't captured that light in her eyes, the power they held. She was incredible, and Sam felt blessed to have seen her. He now had a real memory of her to treasure, the memory of her saving his life.

There was one part he didn't treasure though.

"Missouri, when she was here, could you read her like you can us?"

"Her mind you mean?"

Sam nodded.

"No, I couldn't. She wasn't here the way you are." She bit her lip. "She apologized to you."

"Yes," Sam said quietly. "I don't understand why."

That was the one thing that marred the memory. What could she had felt the need to apologize for? Why couldn't Sam have reassured her? He should have told her that there was no need for forgiveness, no matter what she thought she had done, because she was his mother and he loved her so much. He couldn't ever blame her for anything.

"I don't know why she said she was sorry," Missouri said. "I wish I did. You're not the only one that needs to know. I do know this though. She would never have done anything to hurt you intentionally. She loved you boys more than anything. I would see her walking around with you in your stroller and Dean running around the pair of you, and I could read her then. She was so happy with you, so proud of what she had. She would have given anything for you." She turned to the door. "All of you."

John and Dean came out, soot smudged and tired but nodding in response to Missouri's words.

"Do you know why she apologized, Dad?" Sam asked.

John came down the steps and sat down beside Sam as Dean moved to stand in front of them. "I don't. I have been thinking about it ever since, and I can think of no reason for her to apologize to any of us for anything. Perhaps she was apologizing for not being here. God knows we all need her."

"Maybe," Dean said thoughtfully, though Sam knew him well enough to know he wasn't convinced. "Whatever it was, it wasn't her fault," he said.

John nodded decisively. "Of course not. Your mom would never hurt any of us on purpose." He turned to Missouri. "She's gone now, isn't she?"

Missouri looked sad as she answered, "Yes. There's no spirits left in that house at all anymore. Their fight canceled out each other's energy."

"So where is she?" Sam asked, his eyes darting between his father and Missouri for an answer.

"Heaven," Missouri said confidently. "There is nowhere else someone like her can belong."

"She's at peace then," Dean said.

Missouri nodded. "She is. You don't need to worry about her anymore. Your mother will be happy now."

John wiped a hand over his face. "Good. She deserves to be happy again."

Sam smiled. He thought so too. His mother had saved his life, and he would never be able to repay her for that, but he had more to treasure from the night than continued life. He had a true memory of his mother now. The way she had looked at him, the look in her eyes.

Sam knew without a doubt that she had loved him now.

* * *

 **So… Some big stuff happening in this one. I knew I needed to have the 'Home' scenario in this story to serve the visions plot. With that realization came the fact Mary would be there, too. I knew I needed John, Dean and Sam to see her again, especially now they're family again. It was important to me that Sam see his mom and John be able to say sorry to her. Hope it came off okay.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	14. Chapter 14

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for all your work on this chapter for me and Gredelina1 for supporting me throughout. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Fourteen**_

Dean was sitting at Missouri's table, a mug of coffee and a crumb-coated plate in front of him. John and Missouri were talking, but Dean was listening to Sam's side of the conversation he was having on the phone with Jessica as he stood in the hall. He could hear the mournful note to his voice as he said, "I know. I'm sorry, but I can't do it, Jess. You go to see them though. Spend Christmas with your family." He paused for a moment and said, "Really? You can't just believe me? Fine." From his words Dean expected him to be scowling when he came back into the room, but he was smiling fondly as he held the phone out to Dean and said, "Jess would like to speak to you."

Dean took the phone from him and held it to his ear. "Hey, Jess."

" _Is he really okay?"_ she asked without preamble.

Dean looked at Sam who was nodding vigorously and mouthing, "I'm fine."

Dean smiled slightly. "Well, he's looked better."

Sam threw his hands up.

" _Better how?"_ Jessica asked.

Dean examined Sam who was staring down at him with a steely glint in his eyes. His neck was circled by a deep blue bruise with red edges. In truth, it looked as though he'd recently attempted to garrote himself. "He's a little bruised," he said. "He's okay though. Dad checked him over and said it's all good."

" _Since when is John a doctor?"_

"He's not," Dean admitted. "He's got a lot of knowledge from his time in the military though. Really, Jess, do you think we'd risk him any more than you would?"

" _No,"_ she said grudgingly.

"He'll be fine. He just needs time for the bruising to go down."

" _Okay. Let me talk to him again."_

Sam took the phone back and asked, "Feel better?" He listened for a moment with a smile and said, "Okay. I'll see you when you get back. Wish them all a Merry Christmas for me. I love you, too." He ended the call and tucked the phone away, his shoulders slumping.

"She okay?" John asked.

"She's not happy," Sam said. "We were supposed to go to her family for Christmas this year." He looked disappointed. "It's a big deal for them. They do the holidays like they do pretty much everything else—go all out. It'll be this huge affair with the whole family there. I can't exactly go like this though." He ran a hand over his injured throat.

"No," John agreed. "That bruising would be hard to explain."

"I'm sorry, Sam," Dean said.

Sam shrugged. "Doesn't matter really. I just hate disappointing her. She deserves better."

"She does," John said. "But it's not like you're avoiding it for a selfish reason. You look like this because you were trying to save a life. That's something she'll be proud of."

Dean nodded. He hated that Sam had been hurt, but he was proud of him for the reason behind the injury. Sam could have listened to them and stayed back, but he had insisted on playing his part. And there was more. Sam had run back into that house to save Jenny and the kids without backup or weapons. He had been as brave as any hunter they knew. Of course Dean would sooner take on the poltergeist single-handed than let Sam do it again, but he admired what he'd done.

"What are you going to do?" John asked.

"Go home I guess. I might be able to get a flight." He looked disheartened.

Dean rallied for an alternative. They didn't usually 'do' Christmas. Even Dean's pathetic attempts at making it special for Sammy by persuading John to take them to Bobby's or Jim's were abandoned after he was taken. Apart from the one time it had fallen during one of John's episodes, when they'd been at Pastor Jim's, they'd always spent December 25 holed up in a motel. Jim had tried to make that Christmas special for Dean, but it had failed when Dean had spent dinner trying to persuade his father to eat something. He wished they could turn back the clock and enjoy a family Christmas at Bobby's, with stockings and a proper dinner.

"That's a great idea, Dean," Missouri said enthusiastically.

Dean frowned, turning his last thoughts over in his mind. "It is?" How were they supposed to turn back the clock? And Sam was a little old for a stocking.

She chortled. "Not that part. I mean going to Bobby Singer's."

"For Christmas?" John nodded slowly. "Yeah. That works."

"You don't think he'd mind us just descending on him?" Sam asked. "Mind me showing up?"

Dean scoffed. "He'd probably be happier to see you than me and Dad. What do you think? Feel like a Sioux Falls Christmas?"

John looked at him hopefully, and Dean realized he wanted this chance to build a new memory with Sam, too.

"That would be great," Sam said, looking excited.

"Perfect," Missouri said, clapping her hands. "Give me a moment." She bustled into the kitchen and came back a moment later with a plate wrapped in foil. She handed it to Sam and said with a beaming smile, "You can't go to his table empty-handed. I can't promise it will be as good as your lady Jessica's, but it's not bad."

"What is it?" Dean asked hopefully.

Missouri beamed at him. "Apple pie, Dean. If you asked him nicely, he might even share with you."

Dean grinned as Sam nodded.

"Come on then, boys," John said, getting to his feet. "We better get going."

* * *

Dean saw Sam's eyes widen as they pulled through the iron arch that formed the entrance to Bobby's property. He looked around as John drove them through the junked cars to the door as if absorbing the sight. Dean knew he had remembered parts of the place from the memories Missouri had revealed and his dreams. He wondered how it felt for Sam to suddenly see the physical place.

John pulled over beside Bobby's Chevelle and they climbed out. Dean led them up the steps and across the porch and knocked on the door. Bobby's voice called, "Come in," and Dean entered.

"Hey, Bobby," he said.

Bobby was sitting at the desk with a pile of open books in front of him. He didn't even look up as he said, "Whatever you want, it'll have to wait. I'm ass-deep in research for Mackey. There's beer in the fridge. Get yourself a drink and make yourself comfortable if you're staying.

"Hope you've got enough. You've got a guest," Dean said happily.

"You think you count as a guest?" Bobby said wryly, looking up finally. "You should have given up that delusion a long time ago. Now, get yourself a beer and let me…" He trailed off as John came fully into the room followed by Sam. "Oh!"

"Hey," Sam said nervously.

"Sam!" Bobby said, obviously pleased, as he stood and walked around the desk.

"Hope you don't mind us just dropping in," John said.

Bobby looked at Sam. " _You_ are more than welcome, but did you have to bring these two with you?"

Sam grinned. "I couldn't remember the way on my own."

Bobby looked surprised. "You remember some though?"

"Yeah. Some." Sam looked around the room with its books stacked on every surface and weapons casually lying around, a fond look in his eyes. "I think you've maybe got a few hundred more books since I was last here."

"You're probably not wrong," Bobby said. He walked past Dean and John and held out a hand to Sam. They shook and Bobby asked, "Is it just the house you remember?"

"No," Sam said. "I remember you, too."

"You sure you recognize him though?" Dean asked. "He's got a lot more grey hairs since you were a kid."

"I'm sure," Sam said.

"Well, you're looking better than last time I saw you," Bobby said, then squinted at the collar of Sam's shirt. "Though you look banged up again. What happened?"

"Strangled by a lamp," Sam said.

Bobby's eyebrows rose. "Boy, college is a lot more dangerous than I thought."

"Not college," Dean said, making his way to the fridge and pulling out four beers. He handed them out and twisted off the cap of his own. "We were taking out a poltergeist in Lawrence and Sam kind of lost a tug of war."

"You're hunting now?" Bobby asked disapprovingly.

"One-time deal," John said quickly.

Bobby nodded. "I hope so. Sit yourself down."

Sam and Dean sat down on the couch while Bobby pulled up chair in front of them and John leaned against the desk. Sam twisted off the cap of his beer and took a draw.

"So, is this just a drive-by visit or are you staying?" Bobby asked.

"If you'll have us, we thought we'd stay a few days," Dean said.

Bobby nodded, but his eyes were uncertain. "Sounds good. I've got nothing in to feed you though. Plenty of beer mind."

Dean knew Bobby's cooking skills were pretty much limited to heating canned food anyway. "It's okay," he said easily. "We'll make a run by the store and Sam can cook."

Sam glanced at him. "Thanks, man."

"You're welcome," Dean said easily. "Seriously though, Sam can cook like no one else. His breakfasts are pretty good, too, unless he tries making everything in the cookbook at once."

Sam laughed, obviously thinking of his near-disastrous attempt at making Jessica a breakfast buffet.

"That would be great," Bobby said. "It's been a while since I had a meal that didn't come in canned or takeout form. As long as you don't mind."

"I don't mind," Sam assured him.

"Let's see what we need," he said, standing. "Dean, come and give me a hand."

Dean followed him into hall to Bobby's pantry. Bobby rooted through the cans and called back to the living room, "I've got pie filling. No idea how that ended up in there."

"Okay," Sam said. "I can make that work."

Bobby turned worried eyes on Dean. "We have a problem," he whispered.

"What?" Dean asked.

"I've got a demon in the basement."

Dean cursed. He didn't want Sam anywhere near a demon. He wanted to lose this chance at a Christmas with his family even less though.

"What do we do?" Bobby hissed.

"Keep Sam out of the basement?" Dean said with a shrug. "I don't see we've got a choice." He walked back into the kitchen and said. "Either we go to the store now or we eat pie filling and canned chili for Christmas."

"No worries," Sam said, standing.

John pulled out his wallet and handed it to Dean. "We should have some credit left on the First Capital card."

"We're not paying for our first Christmas together in eighteen years with credit card fraud," Bobby said, pulling out his own wallet and handing it to Dean.

"Credit card fraud?" Sam asked, then shook his head. "I don't think I need to know. Pretend I didn't ask."

"Done," Dean said tucking Bobby's wallet in his pocket and slapping Sam on the shoulder. "Come on, Betty Crocker. Let's fulfill all your Christmas dreams."

"You're an ass," Sam said mildly, following him out of the door.

* * *

Sam woke in the middle of the night on the couch in Bobby's library. He was initially confused, not recognizing his surroundings in the dim light, but as looked around at the shadowy piles of books and the heavy desk, the memories returned to him.

Dean was sleeping on the floor beside him on a thin foam mattress. Sam had tried to exchange places, but even drunk off his ass and slurring his speech, having spent the evening sharing a bottle of whiskey and stories, Dean managed to talk him around. He had at least persuaded John to take the bedroom upstairs.

He wondered what had woken him; apart from Dean's soft snores, all was quiet. He ran a hand through his hair and punched his pillow into a more comfortable shape, then he heard it: a sound that seemed to be coming from beneath them, the sound of a woman screaming. He glanced at Dean, but he didn't seem to have heard it. He was still fast asleep.

Sam heard footsteps on wood and he instinctively closed his eyes again and feigned slumber. The door creaked open and there was a heavy sigh. Sam kept his expression peaceful and listened as the door closed again and the footsteps moved back into the hall then onto the carpeted stairs leading upstairs.

His eyes snapped open and he pushed himself upright. Though he knew he should ignore what he'd heard and go back to sleep, he sat up and swung his legs around to the edge of the couch. The floor creaked under his feet and he froze, sure Dean would wake. Dean merely snuffled and rolled over though, and Sam eased himself up and stepped carefully around his brother. He shivered in the cold air and grabbed his hoodie from where it hung on the back of the couch and pulled it on.

Seemingly without his input, his feet carried him out into the hallway. There was a door slightly ajar and he eased it open carefully and slipped though. He was at the top of a set of wooden stairs. Though his instincts were screaming that it was a bad idea, that he didn't want to see what was at the bottom, that he could be hurt again, he walked slowly down them into the basement.

There was a bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the room, and beneath it sat a woman bound to a chair with ropes. Sam knew even before he saw her black eyes that she was a demon, as the chair was set into the center of a devil's trap. Her blonde hair was wet and plastered to her head, and there were smudges of salt around her mouth. She didn't seem remotely affected by it though, despite her earlier screams. She looked amused as Sam edged towards her.

"Sammy!" she said gleefully, the black eyes fading to sky blue. "It's an honor. I'd bow but, you know, I'm a little tied up. Don't suppose you'd untie me, would you? Give me a sporting chance?"

"No," Sam said stolidly.

"You should. I'm on your side after all."

Sam frowned. "How?"

"Maybe that's a bit preemptive. I _will_ be on your side when the time is right."

"We will never be on the same side," Sam growled.

"If that's what helps you sleep at night, keeping telling yourself that," she said easily.

Sam stepped a little closer, his hands curling into unconscious fists. "What do you demons want from me?"

"The boss needs a date for prom." She giggled. "You don't know even the half of it, do you?"

"I know there will be a war," Sam said.

Her smile spread wide across her face, and she looked almost euphoric. "The war… Yes, you've got that part right. The greatest war the world will ever see. It will change lives, no one's as much as yours."

"Why mine?" Sam asked.

"Well, maybe not _yours_ ," she amended. "It's not set in stone. You're a contender, sure, but all you kids with the connections have a shot at the cup. You're my favorite though. Most people's favorite. There's this Miller guy that's looking hopeful, but I think you'll wipe the floor with him when it comes down to it. You've got the right breeding."

"And if I win?" Sam asked making no attempt to hide the tremulous note to his voice. "What then?" He was afraid of the answer, but he had a feeling that he was the only person with a chance at getting the answer out of the demon. She was enjoying taunting him, seeing his fear.

"Then you'll lead us in the war."

Sam swallowed hard. "Why do you think I'd do anything for you?"

"Because it's in your blood!" she said loudly. "Blood will out, Sammy. You know all about that, right? What with you still being bosom buddies with the Winchesters after they plugged your daddy."

"He wasn't my father. He wasn't anything to me," Sam growled. "He was just a kidnapper."

"Do you really believe that?" she asked curiously. "Don't you think about him sometimes? Late at night while your bitch girlfriend sleeps beside you, don't you remember the good times?"

"No!" Sam through his teeth. "Never."

"If you say so. But this time it will be different. See, John Winchester may be your daddy, but Azazel is your father. He took ownership of you the night he entered your nursery, just like he did the others. Winchester, Hydeker, they were just babysitters. When Azazel comes for you, you will follow him like a true and dutiful son. You will kill the Winchesters, Bobby Singer and all the others that are currently trying so hard to protect you, and you'll finish up with your dear, sweet Jessica. You will rip out her heart and you will enjoy every moment of it."

"Never!" Sam said vehemently. "I would never hurt any of them!"

She raised an eyebrow. "I believe that you believe that. But when the moment's right, I will remind you of this conversation and you will laugh at just how deluded you were."

Sam turned his back on her and squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to master himself. He took a few deep breaths, ignoring her loud laughter behind him. He opened his eyes and saw in front of him a wooden table piled with weapons. They would look like random objects to an outsider, a hipflask with an ornate cross engraved on the side, cans of salt, a fireplace poker, but to Sam they were ways to hurt a demon.

"Having a little cry there, Hydeker?"

"My name is Winchester," he said angrily.

"The lies you tell yourself. It's really quite sad. Have you thought about therapy? We're going to need a nice stable leader when the time comes."

Sam snatched up the iron poker and spun to face the demon with it clenched in his hands. "I am not your leader! I am nothing to you monsters! I will _never_ be anything to you!"

She began to laugh. The sound incensed Sam and he raised the poker threateningly. He was so consumed by his anger that he didn't hear the footsteps coming down the stairs. It wasn't until someone caught his wrist and stopped him from swinging the poker through the air that he realized they weren't alone anymore.

"You don't want to do that, Sam," Bobby said, plucking the poker out of his hand and setting it on the table.

"Bobby Singer, my hero," the demon said sardonically.

Bobby ignored her and pulled on Sam's arm. "Come with me."

Sam allowed Bobby to tug him up the stairs by his sleeve and into the hall.

"Come back soon, Sammy," the demon called after him. "We've got so much more to talk about."

Bobby closed the door hard behind them and led Sam out into the kitchen. He pushed him toward a chair and then pulled the recessed doors closed across the library.

Sam sat down and put his head in his hands, only looking up when Bobby set a glass of whiskey in front of him and patted his shoulder.

Bobby sat down opposite him and sipped his own drink before saying, "What happened?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know. She made me mad and I just reacted. I'm sorry."

"It's not me you have to apologize to," Bobby said.

"Who then?"

"Yourself. You almost crossed a line down there, Sam. You could have seriously hurt a person as well as a demon."

"I know," Sam groaned. "God, I can't believe I did that. She just made me so angry. I wanted to help myself for a change."

Bobby frowned. "How does causing blunt force trauma help you?"

"The things she was saying. I just needed it to stop. I didn't want to be weak. I'm sick of being the damsel," he said.

"Doesn't sound like you have been much of a damsel lately. John told me what you did in Lawrence. You saved that woman and her kids."

"Yeah. That was instinct though," Sam said quietly, turning his glass in his hands. "And it doesn't balance the scales. That demon is down there in your basement because of me, right? Just like the rest of your friends, you're interrogating demons to try to protect me. I don't want that. I want to protect myself."

Bobby nodded thoughtfully. "Sometimes you end up hurting more people in the attempt though."

"I know I shouldn't have snapped. Thank you for stopping me."

"I wasn't talking about you," Bobby said. "I was talking about me. Not many people know this, not Dean or your daddy even, but I was once married. My wife, Karen, was the sweetest person you can imagine. Gentle and kind, but strong as an ox where it mattered—in her heart. She took no crap but she cared too."

"She sounds like Jess."

Bobby nodded. "From what Dean and John have told me about her, I'd say you're right. I loved her more than I have ever or will ever love anyone in this life. But I killed her."

Sam's mouth dropped open and it took him a moment to gather himself and snap it shut.

"I didn't mean to," he went on, not looking at Sam. "I never would have hurt her by choice. She was possessed, see, and she tried to kill me. It was before I was a hunter. I was just a small-town mechanic with no idea what the real world was like. Only demons I'd heard of were the ones they taught us about at Sunday school. But I came home one day and found her black-eyed and murderous. I reacted much like you did today, but instead of saving someone else, I was saving myself. I stabbed her with a kitchen knife."

Sam sucked in a breath, trying not to imagine the heartache Bobby must have suffered for that. He couldn't imagine how he could live knowing he'd hurt Jessica.

"It didn't even slow her down," he said. "She kept coming for me, rabid. There was nothing left of the woman I adored in her. She laughed."

"What happened?" Sam asked.

"A hunter came. He exorcised her and saved me, but it was too late to save Karen. She died in my arms from the injuries I caused."

"I am so sorry," Sam said mournfully.

Bobby scrubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah. Thanks. What I'm saying though is that I didn't know better; I had no choice. You do know better."

Though Bobby's tone was mild, Sam felt like he was being scolded. "I do," he agreed. "I won't do anything like it again."

"I don't think you will, but that's not what I meant. The day Karen died was the day my life changed in more ways than one. I begged the hunter that had saved me to teach me, too, and he did. I was cast as a hunter from then on. Just like your daddy was the day your mom was killed. There was no other path for us. Dean got the same fate at the age of four. Your fate would have been the same, I think, because of the way you boys were being raised, but you escaped."

"I don't think what happened counts as an escape, Bobby."

"You're right. I'm sorry. What I mean is that you were set on a different path. You were raised different and it has led you to college and a good woman. You're going to have a life and career that doesn't involve you risking your life every day of the week. You'll be able to save people in a different way. Sure, I could let you go back down there and do what you want to that demon. We could teach you to be a hunter. But that would be a tragedy. You might be able to protect yourself better, but it would cost you something that you'll never get back." He saw Sam's confused look and went on. "I'm not talking about your innocence; that was stolen from you the day you found out about the monster that kidnapped you. But it would take your… pureness away. You have something not me, John or Dean had a chance at: a normal life. You're getting married, yeah?"

Sam nodded, a small reluctant smile curling his lips.

"What do you think will happen if you start hunting?"

"I don't want to hunt," Sam said, almost honestly. He didn't want to be a hunter, but he thought he might need to be.

"You can't always control it," Bobby said. "Your daddy started out hunting the thing that killed your mom, and then he heard about something else and he went after that, too. And then something else, and again and again until he was hunting that Shtriga. You know the consequences of that better than anyone; you were taken when he wasn't there to protect you. Now John and Dean are doing all they can to protect you not only from the demons but from that fate, too. Don't let them down. Don't let Jessica down."

Sam sighed heavily and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I know. I won't. I don't want to let anyone down, but I feel like I already am."

"You're not," Bobby said firmly. "You're doing all you can. As are we. You're right. We are interrogating demons, and we're doing it for you. We all signed up before John gave us the full story. None of us are enjoying what we're doing, but we believe in the cause. You are our cause, Sam."

Sam felt overwhelmed by Bobby's blunt honesty. He was right, too. Sam had lifted that poker to wound, and it would have changed him. It might have taken a while, he wouldn't have become a hunter overnight, but that action would have set him on the path, and he didn't want that.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "I do appreciate what you're all doing for me. I won't go near the demon again."

"Good," Bobby said, nodding then his brow creased. "What was it that she said that made you so angry anyway?"

Sam opened his mouth to answer and then hesitated. He wasn't sure he wanted to share the demon's predictions of what he was going to become. "Can it wait?" he asked. "Just till we've had Christmas. I don't want to spoil it."

"Is it important?" Bobby asked.

"Very," Sam said. "But not urgent."

"Okay." He drank down the rest of his whiskey and said, "You better get yourself back to bed. You've promised me a dinner tomorrow, and after all Dean's big talk, I'm expecting something special."

Sam smiled and pushed away his untouched glass. "I'll try to deliver."

"Good." Bobby stood and slid open the doors to the library. He looked back over his shoulder. "Whatever she said, Sam, forget it for now. And don't let it scare you. We're going to protect you."

"Thanks, Bobby," he said, forcing his tone to be easy. Internally he was afraid though. If he was fated to hurt the people he loved, how could they stop him?

* * *

John was feeling comfortably full and content as he leaned back in his chair and sipped at his beer. Around the table, Bobby and Sam were doing the same. Only Dean was still attempting to eat, despite having already devoured more than any of them. Sam watched him with an amused expression and raised eyebrow as Dean scooped up the last crumbs of his third slice of pie from his plate and ate them with a satisfied expression.

"Damn," he said. "Missouri can bake."

"And Sam can cook," Bobby said, smiling across the table at John's youngest.

"Absolutely," Dean said, nodding and patting his stomach. "Thanks, Sam. It was awesome."

John and Bobby added their own enthusiastic compliments and Sam ducked his head, embarrassed.

"Feel bad for whatever poor mook gets the dishes though," Dean said, looking at the jumble of dirty pots and pans on the counters. Sam had made an amazing meal, but it seemed to have taken every dish Bobby owned to make it.

"Don't feel too bad for yourself," Bobby said. "We're all very grateful for your sacrifice."

"Me!" Dean's eyes widened.

"Yes," Bobby said. "Your brother cooked, so you can do your bit."

John didn't think he would ever get tired of hearing the word brother in relation to his sons. They had avoided the word for so long. Now they used it as much as they could.

"I already did my bit," Dean protested.

Sam laughed. "Cleaning the pie plate with your tongue doesn't count, Dean."

Dean glared at him. "I used a fork, _Sam_ , and I peeled the potatoes."

"Aw, poor thing," Sam said. "Did you get a blister?"

Dean looked on the point of checking and Sam laughed even harder, bowing at the waist. Hearing his boys laugh was the best sound to John. It was still special, no matter how many times he heard it

"I'll do the dishes," he said. He hadn't really contributed to dinner at all. He and Bobby had spent the time finishing up the research Mackey needed for his hunt.

"I'll help," Bobby said.

Dean grinned at Sam and his expression was such that John almost expected him to stick his tongue out as well.

Dean made to stand, but Bobby stopped him. "Hang on a minute. We need to talk first."

Those words had never been followed by a conversation John had enjoyed. He looked from Bobby to Sam upon whom his eyes were fixed. Sam looked almost pleading as he said, "You said you'd wait,"

"I waited," Bobby said implacably. "We've had dinner, now we need to talk. You said it was important."

Sam cast his eyes down to the tabletop.

"What's going on, Son?" John asked gently.

"Sam paid our guest in the basement a visit last night," Bobby said.

John grimaced. While Dean and Sam had been at the store the day before, he'd met the demon and spent a little time talking to her. She had been even more vocally cruel than most, taunting John about Mary's death and Sam's kidnapping. He wondered what the demon would have taunted Sam with.

"She said some stuff," Bobby went on.

Sam looked miserable. John hated to push him when he was clearly unhappy, but this could be what they needed to hear to save him. "What did she say, Sam?" he asked

Sam drew a deep breath and looked up again. Fixing his eyes on a point above John's shoulder he said. "She said I am going to be a leader. Well, maybe me. There are a lot of us. Special children. Contenders. And one of us it going to win."

"Win what?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head, still not looking at any of them. "She didn't say. She was talking more about what came after for whichever of us it was. There's someone called Miller, too. We're going to lead them in the war." He looked desperately at John. "What can I do though? What can a human do for demons?"

"I don't know," John admitted.

"It makes no sense," Sam said angrily. "Even the visions won't help them, will they? But the demon said it was in my blood, that I belong to him—this Azazel. I don't!" His hands fisted on the tabletop.

"Of course you don't," Dean agreed. "She's just talking crap, Sammy. Don't listen to her. They're scared, trying to unsettle you; they know we're coming for them now."

Sam nodded, looking a little comforted.

"Is that all she said?" Bobby asked.

Sam shook his head. His expression became almost afraid and John thought he saw a tremor in his fisted hands. "She said I'm going to kill you," he said in a whisper. "All of you. All the people helping me. And then… Jess." His voice broke on her name. "The demon said I would do terrible things to her."

"You won't," John said firmly. "It's not going to happen. We would never let you hurt anyone, least of all yourself."

"What could they to do to me that it will even be an option?" he asked, not hearing or taking in John's reassurance.

"I don't know," John said honestly.

"Nothing," Dean said, reaching across the table and gripping Sam's fisted hand. "Look at me, Sam!" When Sam finally obeyed he said forcefully, "I have been a hunter since I was a kid, Dad even longer, and Bobby longer than him. There are other seasoned hunters fighting this for you, too. We will _not_ let anything happen to you. You won't even have a chance of hurting anyone. Understand?"

Sam nodded but didn't look comforted.

"I've been doing this longer than you boys have been alive," Bobby said. "I _know_ demons. They talk crap to scare you and rile you up. They want you to be scared. You're playing right into their hands."

"What do I do though?" Sam asked pleadingly.

"You let it go," Bobby said. "You trust us. Believe us when we say you will be safe. Keep living your life."

Sam nodded. His hands flattening on the table and his expression changing to one of grudging relief. "Just don't let me hurt anyone."

"We won't," Dean said confidently. "It's the demon that's going to hurt. He's going to be ended."

John and Bobby nodded firmly. Dean was right. That was the only way open to them. The demon would die and Sam would be saved from whatever fate it was Azazel plotted. He would never touch John's son.

* * *

 **So… A return to the lighter stuff and some drama to top it off. They have a little more information about Sam's fate now though, so they can arm themselves better.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	15. Chapter 15

**Thank you Jenjoremy for all your help with this chapter. You're a beta star. Thank you also Gredelina1 for all your help and support. I love you both.**

 **Back in the Brotherhood days of Brothers In Arms, I posted my millionth word. That felt like a crazy achievement, and I figured it'd be a miracle if I got to 2 million one day. With this chapter it's happened, and I now have a collective word count of over 2 million words. I want to thank each and every one of you for reading, reviewing, and supporting me for so long. Some of you were there at the very beginning with Breaking Down The Wall, and have been there for every single word since. That's what I call dedication, and I am so grateful to you. I have no intention of stopping yet, so here's to the next million.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Fifteen**_

Sam had called Dean and told him he needed to go out of town for the weekend for something and he'd asked Dean if he was free to stay with Jessica, keep her company and add a little extra protection. Dean was more than happy to help. He liked spending time with Jessica, and he would have a little time with Sam on Friday evening before he left in the morning.

He'd gotten into town at lunchtime, let himself into the empty apartment, and spent some time stretched out on the couch, catching up on some of the sleep he'd missed driving to California.

All in all, it wasn't the best birthday he'd ever had. John hadn't even called, but Dean reminded himself he was tracking a demon with Caleb, and he had never really been good with remembering stuff like that anyway. He thought it must be Jessica's birthday, too, as there had been a ball of giftwrap on the coffee table and some cards propped up on the shelves when he arrived.

He woken up in the early evening and headed out to Betsy's to get himself something to eat. Neither Jessica nor Sam had been back to the apartment, so he guessed they were stuck doing college things. He felt bad for Jessica spending her birthday studying instead of partying as someone her age surely wanted to do. He supposed the future birthdays, when she had the life and career she was working for, would make what she was missing now worth it.

He was just finishing his burger when his phone rang. He checked the caller ID and saw Sam's name flashing on the screen.

"Hey, Sammy," he said cheerfully. "You okay?"

" _Yeah, fine,"_ Sam said, sounding a bit harried. _"I'm stuck in a late class though, and I wondered if you'd be able to meet Jess at the library for me. I don't want her walking home alone."_

"Of course," Dean said. "You're going to need to remind me of where that is, though."

Sam chuckled, knowing as well as Dean did that the library had never been among his list of places to visit when at their apartment.

" _It's on Forest Avenue, just a couple blocks north of Scotty's. I know! You guys head there and I'll meet you as soon as I get out of class."_

"Sounds good," Dean said. "I'll see you there."

" _Thanks, Dean."_

They exchanged goodbyes and Dean stood. He dropped a couple bills on the table to cover his meal and a generous tip and set out. He walked quickly to the library, not sure what time Jessica would get out and not wanting to miss her. He was evidently early though. When he arrived, there were many students coming out with books and binders under their arms, but none of them were Jessica or any of her friends he'd met before.

He leaned against the wall at the bottom of the steps and waited patiently as people streamed past him. He thought spending an evening at Scotty's with Sam and Jessica would be as good a birthday as he'd had in a long time.

"Dean!" Jessica's surprised voice called behind him. He turned to see her rushing down the steps to him. "What are you doing here?"

"Sam got caught up in a late class," he said. "I said I'd get you and take you to Scotty's. He's going to meet us there."

"Great!" she said cheerfully.

Dean took her books out of her hands and tucked them under his arm, making her laugh. "What?" he asked.

"You and Sam," she said. "You've both got the gentleman thing down."

Dean shrugged. "Good breeding, I guess."

"Must be." She turned back to say goodbye to the people that had come out of the library with her and then they fell into step walking along the street.

"So, it's your birthday?" He framed it as a question.

"Yeah," she said happily, holding out her wrist where a bracelet he'd not noticed before sparkled. "Sam's gift."

"Nice," Dean said. "Sorry I didn't get you anything. I didn't know."

"That's okay," she said easily. "Seeing you is enough. Sam said you're staying with me while he's out of town."

"Yep. What's he doing anyway?"

"He's taking Rick to look at some factory in Oregon. He's thinking about buying it."

"He's really going for it then?" Dean asked. Sam had spoken of his desire to create a business that would employ people down on their luck or struggling. Dean had been amazed but proud of his brother for taking the money James had left and doing something good with it. He was pleased that he was making his friend Rick a part of it, too."

"Yeah. He's got himself this business adviser and everything." She sounded proud.

"Shame it's happening over your birthday weekend though."

"I don't mind. It's not like he's going on a boys' weekend or something. He's going to be helping people."

"You're a pretty awesome girlfriend, you know that, right?"

She nudged him with her elbow and grinned. "That's fiancée if you don't mind. And yes, I do know."

"How's that going, the wedding stuff?"

She laughed. "The 'stuff' is going fine. We made some arrangements when I was home over the holidays. I'm going to LA over Spring Break to go dress shopping with my mom and sisters. Mom is taking care of most of the little details. I get a couple emails a day with things to look at and choose."

"Is Sam helping out with that?"

"Surprisingly, yes. He's usual reply is to say he'll be fine with whatever I choose, but he's not disinterested, you know, he just wants me to be happy."

"Good man," Dean said. "Smart man."

"Yes," she said seriously. "He is."

"You set a date?" he asked.

She clapped a hand to her forehead. "I forgot! Yes. August Fifteenth."

Dean frowned. That was the day Sam was taken. "The day Sam thought was his birthday?" he said carefully.

"The day James took him, yeah. I think he wants to replace that anniversary with a better one. You don't mind?"

"No, I think it's a great idea. Dad will, too. That's been such a bad day for us for so many years that it will be nice to have something good to remember instead."

She nodded. "We'll be finished with our degrees then. It will be good to start law school with everything settled."

They turned the corner onto the street where Scotty's was located and walked toward the bar.

Jessica paused with her hand on the door. "You think we can get Sam out of here without him feeling the need to pirouette home?"

"As long as we keep him away from garish colored shots, I think we have a chance."

She pushed it open and walked in, Dean following her. As soon as he crossed the threshold, a roar of noise met him.

"Surprise!"

Dean dropped Jessica's books and reached for his colt where it was tucked in the back of his pants. A hand caught his wrist and stopped him from pulling it. He spun to look at whoever had tried to stop him and saw his father's amused face. "You don't need that, Dean."

Dean dropped his hand back to his side and looked around.

There was a mass of people standing in a crowd in front of him and Jessica. Some were wearing ridiculous cone-shaped party hats, and others had noisemakers and party poppers in their hands that were firing their contents into the air. There were balloons tethered to tables and the walls, and hanging over the bar was a large banner with both Jessica's and Dean's names emblazoned on it.

His mouth dropped open as his eyes took in the scene. Sam had come forward to greet Jessica and she was laughing as he swept her into his arms.

"Happy birthday, Son," John said.

"You did this?" Dean asked disbelievingly.

"It was all Sam. He's been planning it for weeks."

"Seriously?"

John nodded happily. He asked what you usually did on your birthday, and when I told him I didn't know, he said he'd take care of it." He looked apologetic. "I'm sorry I didn't know."

"It's okay, Dad," Dean said. "We had other things going on. More important things."

"I couldn't even remember when your last party was."

Dean smiled. "It was my fourth birthday. It was at Chuck E. Cheese's. We wore dumb hats, ate pizza and won tickets playing Whack-A-Mole."

John smiled. "I remember now. That kid helped himself to your cake before we did the candles, didn't he?"

Dean laughed at the memory. "Jason. Real jerk. He also puked the cake up again a little later."

"You mom was so mad," John said nostalgically.

"So was I," Dean said honestly. "It was a Flintstones cake."

Sam weaved his way through the people towards them, a ridiculous party hat set atop his too long hair and a wide smile in place. "Dean!" he said happily. "Happy birthday!"

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean said, a little embarrassed in the face of his enthusiasm.

Sam held out two hats to Dean and John. "Put them on!"

"Sam, you're my son and I love you, but I'm not wearing that," John said immovably as Dean shook his head quickly.

"Figured it was a long shot," he said, dropping the hats into the hand of a passing woman who laughed and put them both on her head, giving the appearance of horns. "Do you like it?" Sam asked, gesturing expansively to the people, balloons, banner and what Dean thought looked suspiciously like a line of pink shots being set up at the bar.

"It's great," Dean said honestly. "How did you even know though?"

"When you discover you have long-lost brother, you find out when his birthday is." He nodded to John. "He won't tell me when his is though."

"April twenty-second," Dean said quickly.

John looked betrayed and Dean grinned at him.

"I'm guessing I never got you a gift before either," Sam said.

"You were too young," Dean said.

Sam nodded. "Thought so. I've got it covered this time though." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small jewelry box. He held it out to Dean with an excited smile. "Open it."

Dean took it and eased open the lid. There was a silver medallion inside on a chain.

"It's a Saint Christopher," Sam explained. "It protects travelers. Since you seem to spend most of your life traveling, I figured you could use it. I can help you for once."

Dean swallowed hard and felt his eyes burning. He wasn't sure why it affected him so much. He told himself it was just a necklace. But it was more than that. It was Sam trying to protect him. It was him going into a store and choosing this for Dean, his brother. It was the excitement in his eyes as he handed it over.

His excitement seemed to be fading though. His eyes grew concerned. "You don't have to wear it," he said quickly. "You can keep it in your wallet or something. Or not even that. If you don't like it, you don't have to keep it. I can get you something else. Something useful. Like a weapon. Or–"

Dean cut him off with a hug. Sam hesitated at first and then embraced him in return. When they pulled apart, Dean gripped his shoulders. "Thank you, Sam. I love it."

Sam grinned at him. "Great. Now, let's get you a drink." He turned and walked to the bar, the ridiculous hat still perched on his head.

"Well, he's enjoying himself," John observed. "Speaking of…" He nodded to the bar where Dean saw Caleb standing with a group of Sam and Jessica's friends. As Dean watched, he licked the back of his hand, slammed back a shot of tequila and then bit into a lime. He held up his glass and joined the cheers of the people around him.

"What's he doing here?"

John looked amused. "Celebrating you, of course. Sam asked Bobby, too, but he begged off."

Dean tried to imagine Bobby sipping his rotgut among these kids and he laughed. "Yeah, I get that. I don't think this is his kinda thing."

"But it's yours?" John asked.

"It's different," Dean admitted. "But it's great. Sam was too young to even know what date it was let alone when my birthday was before. This is a first for us. It's going to be good."

* * *

As the evening wore on, the liquor consumption got freer and the people rowdier. The bartenders made no complaints, as nobody got too out of control and their takings were good. Sam moved between Dean and John and Jessica and her friends, never making John and Dean feel excluded. Jessica came over to them a couple times, too, with beers and shots that John politely refused and Dean drank so as not to offend her, thanking paternal genetics for his ability to consume copious amounts of alcohol with minimal side effects.

Caleb eventually prized himself away from his new friends at the bar and joined them at the balloon festooned table they'd claimed. In the process of the evening, he'd gained a party hat and he wore it at an angle that made it look even more ridiculous. Despite the amount of liquor he'd drunk over the course of the evening, he was reasonably composed and was listening as John quietly told him what the demon had said to Sam. John omitted the parts about Sam being a candidate to lead some sort of army, and focused instead on the other mentioned special children.

He was asking questions about the Miller person Sam had spoken about, and both men were wondering how they could track a single kid named Miller even with Ash's help, when Sam and Jessica came over. Sam had his arm around Jessica's back, as much as an affectionate gesture as to support her weaving body, Dean thought. Dean had seen her at the bar with her friends knocking back shots and he guessed she was going to suffer in the morning.

"Caleb, this is my son, Sam," John said. "And his fiancée Jessica."

Jess held out her unsteady hand to show him her ring.

"Good to meet you," Caleb said, shaking Sam's hand and admiring Jessica's ring. "And congratulations."

"Thanks," Jessica said with a bright and slightly silly smile.

Sam pulled out a chair for her beside John and helped her into it.

"You all look very serious," Jessica observed.

"We were talking shop," John said.

Jessica pointed a wavering finger at him. "No, no, no. Not tonight. It's a party. You can talk monsters and demons tomorrow."

Sam looked panicked and grabbed the beer from in front of Dean and said, "Have a drink, Jess."

Jessica picked up the bottle and frowned. "It's almost gone."

"You drank the rest already," Sam lied easily.

"Oh. Okay."

John hid his smile behind his hand as Dean and Caleb laughed.

Jessica downed the remains of Dean's beer, hiccupped, and said, "I need another!"

Sam smiled fondly. "Anything you want." He turned to Dean and said, "I'll be right back."

He helped Jessica out of the chair and led her to the bar. They got lost in the crowd and Caleb said, "She's fun."

"She is," John agreed. "She's usually a little more sober though."

Caleb snorted. "I hope so."

Dean started to ask his father if he wanted to escape back to the motel when a girl in tottering heels came and planted herself in the chair Jessica had just vacated. She had long brown hair and the glazed eyes of someone that had drunk far too much.

"Hey there," she said, staring at John. "I'm Carrie."

"Hello, Carrie," John said politely.

"I'm Jessica's friend," she said.

"I'm Sam's father."

She frowned. "Are you sure? I thought Sam's dad was that guy at the hospital."

"I'm positive," John said firmly. "He was just someone Sam used to know."

She brightened. "Well that makes things even better. See, I have a bet with my friends that you'll dance with me, and you're obviously gorgeous, but now that I know you're a DILF, too, I _have_ to dance with you."

Caleb burst into laughter, folding over in his seat, and Dean coughed to hide his snort.

"I'm afraid I don't dance," John said, only his eyes betraying his panic. The rest of his face was serene.

"Please," she said pleadingly. "I'm a poor student and I can't afford to lose this bet."

"I don't dance," John said again.

She pouted. "But you're so hot." Her hand fell onto John's arm and she leaned close.

Dean couldn't hold back a snicker. He felt John's eyes boring into him, and he fixed his gaze on the crowd at the bar.

"Really," John said. "I'm not the man you need." He breathed a sudden sigh of relief, and Dean saw Sam appear out of the crowd. His eyes widened at the sight of John pinned by the lusty coed.

He hurried forward and grabbed her hand, lifting it away from John's arm. "Carrie," he said enthusiastically. "I was just looking for you. Jess needs to ask you something."

She grinned. "She does?"

"Yes. She's in the corner with Becky and Jaymie. Why don't you go see her?"

Carrie pulled herself upright on Sam's hand and then leaned down to whisper conspiratorially to John. "I bet she's going to ask me to be a bridesmaid." She winked. "I'll see _you_ at the wedding."

Sam turned her away, whispered something in her ear and pushed her away gently. She tottered off and Sam sank into her vacated chair. "I am so sorry," he said to John.

"It's okay," John said. "Not your fault. Or hers. She's just had too much to drink."

"What did she want?" Sam asked.

"Pretty sure she wanted to get into Dad's pants," Dean said.

Sam shook his head, obviously mortified.

"She wanted to dance," John corrected.

"Yeah," Caleb said. "But she also called you a DILF."

Sam blanched. "She actually said that? Oh God!"

"I think I'm going to regret asking, but what's a DILF?" John asked.

Caleb bowed over laughing again and Sam's pale cheeks flushed with color as he said, "It means Dad I'd like to fuck."

John's mouth dropped open as Dean roared with laughter.

"I'm sorry," Sam said again. "Really. If you want to get out of here, I'll understand."

"It's fine," John said. "As long as I'm not called _that_ again, I can handle it."

Sam nodded. "I'll keep her away from you."

His promise was immediately compromised as Jessica swayed over to them and grabbed Sam's hand. "Baby, I want to dance."

Dean thought that was an epically bad idea, as the music playing was fast and loud and Jessica could barely walk, but with a soft smile, Sam stood and said. "Anything for you."

She beamed at him and clung to his arm as they walked to the small dance floor that had formed among the party guests.

His worry for Jessica's equilibrium was quickly quashed as Jessica wrapped her arms around Sam's neck and they began to sway slowly to music only they could apparently hear.

Dean watched them for a moment, seeing Sam bury his contented smile into Jessica's hair, and then he turned to his father. "You want to get out of here now? I don't think we're going to see Sam again tonight, and Jessica wouldn't notice if we tap-danced out waving pompoms.

John laughed. "You're probably right, and I'd rather face a rabid ghoul than deal with another proposition like that, but we can stay a little longer."

His eyes found Sam and Jessica again and Dean nodded. He was happy to stay a little longer, too.

* * *

 **So… A little more of the light stuff. This was great fun to write, and I hope it was good to read.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	16. Chapter 16

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing this for me and Gredelina1 for all your help. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Sixteen**_

Sam jerked upright in the dawn light, his mind filled with the images he'd seen in his dream. He had a dull ache behind his temples and his vision was a little blurred, but he was calm.

He grabbed his phone from the bedside table and slid out of bed, leaving Jessica sleeping peacefully. He padded barefoot into the living room and grabbed the note pad, writing down the license plate he'd seen before it had a chance to slip out of his mind. After checking it twice, he picked up the phone and hit the speed dial assigned to his father.

It was answered after only a single ring. _"Sam? Are you okay?"_

"I'm fine but, Dad, I saw something," he said quickly but calmly.

"Another vision?" John sounded worried.

Sam was worried, too, but the time to wring his hands and panic would come later. Now he had to get to this man and save him. He had done it last time and he would this time, too.

"It was a dream again but, yeah, a vision. You have to get to Michigan."

John's tone became businesslike. "Where in Michigan?"

"I don't know. I got the license plate though. You should be able to track it from that, right?"

"I can. Hold on." Sam heard his muffled voice as he spoke urgently to someone else. "Jim, give me that pen. Okay, Son, I'm here. What was the plate?"

"MF6037. It was a black Dodge."

"Hang on." His voice muffled again as he said. "Jim, I need an address for this. It's a Michigan plate." His voice became clear again. "What else did you see?"

"A man dying."

"Okay, give me the details, Sam. I need to know everything you saw."

Sam drew a breath and tried to replay the vision so he could give his father as much information as possible. "He drove into his garage, and the door closed behind him. He seemed surprised, so I don't think it was normal. Then the car doors locked. He tried opening them, but he couldn't. The engine turned on and the fumes started filling the car. He shouted for help but no one came. He's going to die."

"And you didn't see anyone else?"

"No one. It all happened, the locks, the engine, even the radio switching on, without him touching them. It was like there was a ghost. Do ghosts do things like that?"

"They have the ability, and they can be pretty murderous."

Sam heard a voice in the background, a familiar voice he hadn't heard in what felt like a lifetime. "It's Marquette Street, Saginaw, John."

Sam jotted the address down on his pad.

"Okay, Sam. I'll call you as soon as I get here. If you see anything else, let me know."

"I will," Sam said. "I'll see you there.

"Okay… Wait! What?"

Sam had anticipated this reaction and he was ready for the fight. "I'm on my way. It might take a while, as I don't know if there's a direct flight. I'll call when I get there though."

"No!" John barked. "You're not coming."

"I have to," Sam said firmly.

"Sam, last time you followed a vision with us, you almost died. I'm not risking that again."

Sam spoke calmly in the face of his father's distress. "We don't know how this thing works. I saw the vision of Ritchie being trapped in the fridge when I was there. What if I need proximity to see things more clearly? And what if I do see something but I can't reach you? I'm coming."

"Dammit, Sam!"

"Heading for the airport now, Dad. Gotta run."

"Sam…" he growled.

Sam cut the call with a twinge of guilt. He told himself it was necessary. He _needed_ to be there. He would be able to make John understand that when he saw him.

He rushed back into the bedroom and grabbed his duffel from the closet. He eased open drawers and grabbed what he needed then turned to look at Jessica. She was sleeping peacefully still, and he didn't want to wake her, but if he left without telling her what he was doing, she'd be upset.

He dropped his duffel down onto the end of the bed and sat down beside her. "Jess," he said gently, stroking a hand over her cheek.

Her eyes opened slowly and she frowned. "Baby? It's early. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Sam said reassuringly. "I've got to go though."

She became alert and sat up quickly. "What's happening?"

"I had another dream. There's a man that needs our help. I've called my dad and he's going to meet me there." He kissed her cheek. "I'll come home as soon as I can."

"Do you have to go?" she asked, looking almost afraid.

"I do. I saw this man for a reason, and I need to be there to save him."

"Be careful," she begged.

"I will," he promised. He held her hand for a moment, caressing the ring on her finger, and then stood. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she said as he grabbed his duffel and walked to the door. He glanced back at her, smiled, and then walked out.

He felt confident. He had had the vision so he could save this man. The last time he had been hurt because he had been there at the wrong time. The vision had come into being later. For whatever reason he had these visions, it wasn't to hurt him. It was so he could save.

He would be fine.

* * *

John knew they were too late before he even stopped the car. There was a police car parked across the street and an ambulance with the back doors open but no sense of urgency as the EMTs walked disconsolately away from it, wheeling a gurney. A crowd was forming around the cordon a cop was setting up.

They'd driven from Blue Earth breaking speed limits and only stopping for gas, doing little more than stretching their legs at each stop, but they still hadn't been fast enough. The man was dead.

John watched as the gurney, loaded with a body in a black body bag, was wheeled out of the garage and he cursed quietly. Sam was going to be upset.

An older woman was staring with avid interest at the scene in front of them. John approached her and tried to keep his voice even as he said, "Do you know what happened?"

"Suicide," she said disapprovingly. "He locked himself in the garage with the engine running. He seemed so normal. I saw him and his family at St. Augustine's every Sunday. Never imagined he'd do something like this."

John nodded and stepped back to Jim who was looking sympathetically at a woman and young man on the porch as they watched the body being wheeled away. Another man approached them and took the woman into his arms.

"He was gassed, just like Sam saw," John said quietly.

Jim nodded. "God help him."

"Bit late for that," John said.

Jim frowned but didn't comment.

John turned away and walked back to his truck. He climbed in behind the wheel and waited for Jim to get in beside him before bringing the engine to life. He pulled away and headed back to onto the highway. He'd seen a cheap looking motel on the way into town and he directed them there now.

"Sam's going to be upset," he said into the quiet air of the cab.

"I imagine he will," Jim agreed. "But we did what we could. We got here as fast as possible."

John shook his head. Sam believed that his visions were supposed to lead him to save lives. They had twice in Lawrence for Jenny and her family, but they hadn't saved that poor man from having his hand mangled in the waste disposal. John didn't think they were designed to save.

He pulled into the parking lot of the motel and stopped for a moment with his arms resting on the wheel. He would have to tell his son that they'd failed and face Sam's disappointment. He'd never wanted to disappoint him again.

"I'll get our room," Jim said.

John nodded. He knew Jim didn't approve of his and Dean's method of making their way with credit card fraud. He would have explained—not for the first time—that it was the only option they had if they wanted to save lives, but he didn't have the will or energy.

He climbed out and walked around to take their bags from the truck bed. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out and sighed when he checked the caller ID.

"Sam?"

" _My flight just landed,"_ he said quickly. _"Are you there yet?"_

"Yeah." He glanced up at the motel signage. "We're in town. Do you want me to come get you?"

" _No. I'll get a cab. Where are you?"_

"We're at the Heidelberg Motel on the Dixie Highway."

" _It's over already?"_ Sam asked eagerly. His faith that John would have succeeded hurt.

"It's over," John agreed. "I'll tell you all about it when you get here."

" _Okay. Thanks, Dad. I'll see you soon."_

The exchanged goodbyes and John leaned his head against the cool glass of the truck door window. He felt like crap and knew worse was coming.

"Are you okay?" Jim asked, coming out of the office with a keycard in his hand.

"Fine," John said, handing him his duffel. "What room do we have?"

"Fourteen," Jim said.

John walked to the room and waited as Jim opened the door and gestured him in. It was a basic hotel room, like hundreds he had stayed in before. The table under the window was a plastic folding model and the chairs mismatched, but at least the purple patterned bedding on the two beds looked clean.

John stood by the window and stared out at the dark parking lot.

"It's not your fault, John," Jim said behind him. "You came as fast as you could."

John nodded. "I did." His somber expression didn't change.

Jim sighed and said, "I'll go get us something to eat. I saw a diner a little way along the highway."

"Okay." He turned back. "Can you get Sam something as well? He probably hasn't eaten either. He likes healthy stuff."

"I'll take care of it," Jim said.

John tossed him the truck keys and he caught them. John watched out of the window as Jim climbed in and drove out of the lot and then he took his cellphone out and dialed Dean's number.

He heard the rumble of the Impala's engine the in the background when he answered. _"What's happening?"_ he asked without greeting.

"We got to town too late," John said. "The man was already dead."

Dean cursed. _"Does Sam know?"_

"Not yet. He's on his way here now."

" _He's not going to be happy,"_ Dean said.

"You think I don't know that?" John snapped.

Dean's sigh crackled over the line. _"I'm still about six hours out."_

"Have you slept at all?" John asked.

" _Of course not!"_ Dean said defensively, as if expecting to be scolded for even thinking about taking care of himself.

John felt like an asshole. "Do," he said. "Stop now and get some rest. There's no rush anymore, and you won't do anyone any good if you crash the car because you fall asleep at the wheel."

" _What if Sam sees something else?"_

"I don't think he will, Dean. The thing he saw has already happened. The man is dead. There can be no last-minute rescue like there was for Jenny. We were too late. If anything else happens, I'll call."

"And the thing that did the killing this time?"

"I figure it's a ghost. I'll send Sam back home and then you, me and Jim can sweep up here."

" _Okay,"_ Dean said. _"I'll stop now and catch a few hours. I'll call you when I'm close."_ He ended the call without another word and John dropped the phone onto the table. He felt like Dean was angry that he hadn't been fast enough. He was disappointing both of his sons.

Lights flashed across the lot as a cab pulled in. Sam climbed out, his duffel over his shoulder and his expression serene as looked around, probably looking for John's truck and trying to work out which room his father was in.

John went to the door and opened it. "Here, Sam."

Sam smiled at him and walked forward, talking quickly. "We were delayed so I missed my connection. I had to wait for another flight. How did it go here?

John stepped back and let him into the room before closing it behind him and looking into his youngest's eyes.

Sam's smile faded quickly. "It happened anyway?"

John nodded. "I'm sorry, Son."

Sam let his bag slide from his shoulder and dropped it onto the bed. "Dammit!"

"We drove as fast as we could," John said. "We missed it by an hour at the most. They hadn't even removed the body when we arrived."

Sam shook his head. "That makes no sense. I saw it! Why would I see it if I couldn't help?"

John stayed silent, not wanting to share his theory that the dreams were not designed to help him.

Sam sat down on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Jim's gone out to get us some food," John said. "Have something to eat, get some rest and tomorrow you can head home."

Sam's brow furrowed. "What?"

"It's over, Sam. He's dead. There's nothing for you to do here anymore."

"No," Sam said. "There has to be more. There must be something else happening."

"Can you sense something?" John asked, remembering Sam's certainty that the hunt in Lawrence wasn't over.

"No, but it's not over, I know it. I saw that man die for a reason. I am supposed to be here."

John raked a hand through his hair. "What about college? You can't just stop."

"It's Thursday," Sam said. "I've missed my classes today and I'll definitely be missing tomorrow, even if I leave now, so I have the weekend. We can wait a couple of days; see if anything else happens. If I haven't seen anything by Saturday evening, I'll go home Sunday."

John saw from the stubborn set of his jaw—so achingly familiar—that Sam was determined. He was right, too. He wouldn't be able to get back for the morning's classes, so he may as well stay the weekend, even if all it would serve to do was satisfy him that it really was over.

"Okay," he conceded. "We'll stay till Sunday."

"Good," Sam said. "Have you heard anything from Dean?"

"He's on his way. I've told him to stop and rest, so he'll probably get here sometime tomorrow. I'll go get you two a room."

Sam nodded and stood. "I'll get it. I'll be right back."

"You got enough money?" John asked. He knew Sam had decided to use James' money for school, but he didn't know how much else he had.

"Yeah. I'm using _his_ money," Sam said, bitterness in his tone. "I don't want it having a part of me and Jess, but I figure using it to take out monsters like him is kinda perfect."

John smiled grimly. "I think you're right."

Sam walked to the door then stopped as someone knocked. He opened it, his confusion turning to a smile as he saw Jim standing on the doorway. "Pastor Jim!" he said happily and then ducked his head as color flushed his cheeks.

"I never thought I would hear those words from your mouth again," Jim said, his happiness evident. He laid a hand on Sam's arm and said, "I am so happy to see you again, Sam."

Sam stepped back, a smile on his face despite his warm cheeks, and Jim came in. He set his packages of food onto the table and turned to John, his expression becoming serious.

"People were talking in the diner about what happened."

John nodded. "People usually do."

"Yes, but they spoke of the family. The man's name was Jim Miller."

John felt his face drain of color. "That's the name the demon said to Sam!" He turned stunned eyes on his son.

Sam's high color had faded and his eyes were wide, but inexplicably, he was smiling. "It's not over," he said. "I knew it!"

John felt none of his excitement. He was thinking of the danger Sam was in now that they knew there was a demonic connection to this hunt.

"Don't you see, Dad?" he asked. "There's still someone we can save."

John nodded slowly, trying to smile for his son. He was thinking of the name Miller and the kid that had stood on the porch while Jim Miller's body was wheeled out of the garage. He had looked around Sam's age. When they said special children, did they mean just that? Was this boy one of them?

* * *

Sam barely slept that night.

The conversation the night before had centered on the need to get close enough to Max and his family to talk to him. They had toyed with ideas, some of John's being a little too out there for Sam, including going in as federal agents and 'arresting' him. Both Sam and Jim had vetoed that idea, Jim for moral reasons and Sam for certainty that it couldn't possibly work.

They had eventually decided to try Jim's softer approach of visiting the house to offer comfort to the bereaved. Sam was confident it would work to get them in, but he was concerned that he was going to mess up. A lot lay on him. They'd agreed that, as the closest to the assumed son's age, he was the one the boy would most likely to open up to. He'd never done anything like this before. Jessica had reassured him though when he'd called her, reminding him that their friends opened up to him all the time, and Rick had, too. Feeling slightly better about the situation, he'd gone to John and Jim's room to wait for them to be ready.

John was pulling on a white shirt and tie that made him look almost strange to Sam. He was used to seeing him in his usual plaid shirt over a tee coupled with his leather jacket.

"You done suiting up?" John called to Jim.

He came out of the bathroom wearing a high collar black shirt and tucking his white clerical collar in. Unlike John, Jim looked more familiar in his pastoral clothes. They had fascinated Sam a child, and he had a memory of him and Dean sneaking into Jim's room to try on his collar, fumbling with the stud fastenings at the back. Jim had caught them, and rather than being angry as Sam had been sure he would, he had showed them how it fastened. It was a good memory to have been returned.

John examined him and said, "Yep. Nice and tame."

"I'm still not certain this will work," Jim said. "They're Catholic. I am not."

"God is God, right?" John said carelessly.

Sam eyes widened but Jim smiled fondly. "To some, yes."

Sam looked down at his comfortable jeans and Stanford logo t-shirt and asked, "Should I change?"

John looked him up and down. "Definitely not. You look nice and tame, too. The image of the perfect college kid. That might be a good opener for you." He adjusted his tie, completing the look of respectability and smoothed his shirt. "Ready? Good."

Sam followed him out to the truck and climbed in, sitting between him and Jim. They set out, and Sam watched the road slipping beneath the tires, trying to come up with openers for conversation to use with the son. They were driving through a suburban street, when John huffed a laugh and pulled over on the side of the road in front of an empty looking house with a for sale sign driven into the grass. He climbed out, and with Sam and Jim's confused eyes watching him, he kicked at the post to loosen it and then pulled it out of the ground. He tossed it into the truck bed and then got back and started the engine.

"Welcome to the neighborhood," he said easily.

"We're neighbors now?" Jim asked.

"Me and Sam are. You've come here to help us move in."

Jim nodded. "Okay."

Sam laughed softly. It all seemed surreal, actually going undercover to save people. He wondered if this was what John and Dean did all the time when hunting. How did they keep the lies straight in their heads?

When they pulled up again, it was outside the house from Sam's vision. He felt a chill of something like fear as he climbed out and his eyes fell on the garage door. A man had died in there less than a day ago.

John seemed to sense his disquiet as he laid a hand on his shoulder. "You ready?"

Sam nodded and followed them to the door. John knocked and a man with dark hair opened the door.

"Hello," John said in a gentle voice. "We're the Simmons. This is our friend Pastor–"

"Whatever," the man said, cutting him off. "You might as well come in."

John and Jim exchanged a glace and followed him into the house, Sam behind them.

"Alice," the man called. "There's some God-botherers here to see you."

A woman shoulder length blonde hair and red-rimmed eyes rushed to them. "Roger!" she said stunned.

The man shrugged. "Forgive me if I'm rude," he said sarcastically, fixing his eyes on Jim, "but my brother's dead."

"We understand," Jim said seriously.

"Come in," Alice said, leading them to a living room and gesturing them to a couch. They sat and she said, "I'm sorry I don't recognize you. Did you know Jim?"

"We just moved around the corner. We met Jim when we were unloading the van."

"I heard the Barrett house was for sale, but I didn't know it was sold already," she said.

"It was fast," John lied smoothly. "This is my son, Sam, and our friend Pastor Jim Murphy."

She smiled at Jim. "Welcome to our home."

"We wanted to say how sorry we are for your loss," Jim said.

"Thank you. It's all been so sudden. It's horrible."

"I can't imagine how it must have felt to find him like that," John said.

"It wasn't me," she said. "It was our son, Max. He's hardly spoken since it happened."

Sam followed her eyes to the young man that was sitting on a chair by the window, staring into space.

"You mind if I speak to him?" Sam asked.

"Would you? That would be very kind. Max doesn't have many friends his own age, shy you know, but he might speak to you."

"Of course," Sam said. He stood, leaving his dad and Jim to talk to the mother, and walked to Max.

He looked up as Sam approached, and a frown creased his brow.

"Hi," he said. "I'm Sam. You mind if I sit?"

He shook his head and Sam pulled up a chair and sat angled towards him. "I'm really sorry about your dad. And for just arriving like this. My dad wanted to share his condolences."

Max nodded. "At least you didn't bring a casserole," he said. "That's all people seem to be doing—bringing food. Like that will help. It's lame."

"I don't think people know what to do," Sam said. He remembered the stream of casseroles and pot-roasts that had come from the neighbors and people from the hospital when James had died. Jessica and his friends had protected him from most of it, making excuses for why he couldn't talk to them.

"They should stay the hell away then," he said bitterly. "Instead they're here talking about what a great guy he was, like any of them really knew him."

Sam frowned. He was trying to find a way to ask what his father was really like, but Max seemed to realize he had said too much as he shook his head quickly and asked, "So, do you really go to Stanford or do you just like the shirt?"

"I really go there," he said. "My dad just moved into the area so I'm helping him settle this weekend, and then I'm heading back."

"It's a long way from here to California," Max said. "Don't you miss him?"

"Yes," Sam said honestly. "And my brother, too, but we get together as much as we can."

Max looked displeased at the answer and, again, Sam sensed the tension between Max and his family as if it had been spoken aloud.

"I'm going to go to college," Max said, sounding almost as though he was convincing himself as well as Sam. "I just need to save some money."

"You'll love it," Sam said. "It's great."

Max nodded. "What are you studying?"

"Pre-Law. I'm going to law school in the fall," Sam said. "Me and my fiancée both got into Stanford's law program."

"You must be pretty smart."

Sam hesitated before answering, not sure what he could say that wouldn't be arrogant or an obvious lie. It didn't matter though. The man that had let them in, Max's uncle, came over and bore down on them. "You two having a good talk?" he asked.

Max seemed to shrink in his chair.

"We were talking about college," Sam said.

He nodded, a cruel smile curving his lips. "Good for you. Max, I need you upstairs."

Max got quickly to his feet and said, "It was good talking," to Sam and then followed his uncle into the hall. Sam watched them go, a frown creasing his brow. Roger Miller was obviously a jerk, but it felt like something more. Sam wished they could have talked a little longer so he could have unpicked a little more of the mystery.

* * *

 **So… Another vision, another hunt for Sam to tag along with. It was great to write Pastor Jim again, especially interacting with Sam.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	17. Chapter 17

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing this and being my all knowing random history/life/US/everything Yoda. Thank you Gredelina1 for being my very own cheerleader and for helping me keep going when I want to stop.**

 **Tempestuous Ocean made my year today with a fic rec to Changing Channels for Lost and Found and Search On. Since I am still riding on a sea of joy I am giving you an extra update this week. Thank you so much hon xxx**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Seventeen**_

Dean was leaning against the Impala when he saw his father's truck pull off the highway into the parking lot. He pushed up from the hood and grabbed his bag from where it sat at his feet while John, Jim and Sam climbed out. Sam smiled as he saw him, but Dean thought he looked troubled. John had called him that morning to say they were going to see the family of the dead man, and he wondered what had happened to his brother there.

He greeted them and followed his father into the room. John took a chair at the cheap table and Jim sat opposite. Dean and Sam sat on the edge of the bed and Dean asked, "How did it go at the house?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary according to the mom," John said. "They lived the perfect little family life until her husband supposedly committed suicide. How did you get on with the son?" he asked Sam.

"Pretty sure it wasn't a perfect family," he said. "Max let slip that his dad wasn't father of the year, and I'm pretty sure he's not grieving."

"How can you tell?" Jim asked.

"I remember how it felt," Sam said, looking down at his feet rather than at his father or brother.

Dean shifted uncomfortably, knowing Sam was referring to James' death. He knew that Sam was aware of what a monster he had been now, and he no longer grieved his loss, but he would always remember how he had looked when he'd come to the motel after the funeral and begged them for a little space so he could mourn; he had been wrecked.

"He's scared of his uncle, too," Sam said. "When Roger came to get him, he was practically shaking."

"Do you think Max is the killer?" Dean asked.

Sam thought for a moment, but then shook his head. "No. I think he's got more going on than a troubled family life though."

"His last name _is_ Miller," John said thoughtfully. "It seems like too much of a coincidence that he could be called that and have this death in his family and not be the so-called 'special kid' the demon mentioned."

"He's definitely hiding something," Sam said thoughtfully. "Do you think maybe he has visions, too? He could have seen the death and not done anything."

"But then what killed his father?" Jim asked.

"A ghost?" Sam suggested. "Or a demon. Can demons do things like that?"

"Yes," John said slowly. "Some demons have telekinetic abilities."

"Then it's got to be that," Sam said. "They could be coming for him like they did me with Jess. Maybe their thing is to kill the people you're close to."

"You just said he wasn't close to his dad though," Dean pointed out.

"The demons might not know that," Sam said.

It didn't feel right to Dean. Jessica had been targeted because Sam loved her more than anything. He wasn't sure what their intent was, perhaps to unhinge Sam and make him an easier target for their plans. They'd gone to a fair bit of trouble to set them up in the first place after all. They may have been oblivious to Max's troubled relationship with his father, but Dean just didn't believe it. They were surely smarter than that.

"It's possible," John said doubtfully.

Sam nodded eagerly. "I think that's it."

"You liked him," Dean guessed as Sam clung to the answer that would mean Max was innocent in his father's death.

"Yeah. He seemed to have a sucky life. I don't think he…" He trailed off, bringing a hand to his forehead. His eyes squinted in obvious discomfort.

"Sam?" John said. "What is it?"

"I think–" He cut off with a groan of pain. His fists came up to his temples and he bowed over.

Sure of what was happening and remembering the last time, Dean lunged forward just in time to catch Sam and hold him up before he folded forward onto the floor. He carefully lowered him back onto the bed and sat beside him. Sam curled onto his side still clutching his head in agony.

"It's okay," he said soothingly, his hand coming up to massage the back of Sam's neck. "You're okay."

Sam was moaning like an animal in pain, but Dean could tell that he was trying to stop himself and get on top of the pain. He shuddered against Dean as if he'd had an electric shock and then went still.

"Sam!" John said fearfully.

"I'm okay," Sam groaned, trying to sit up, his eyes still squeezed shut.

Dean took his shoulders and eased him up, supporting him in case he fell. "Easy, Sammy."

"What did you see?" John asked gently.

"Roger Miller," Sam said hoarsely, opening his bloodshot eyes. "He's going to be killed." He tried to stand but Dean held him down with barely any effort. Sam seemed to have been weakened by his vision. "There's a window. He's going to be…" He swallowed hard. "He's going to be decapitated. There's so much blood. I didn't see anyone there."

"Did you get a location?" John asked.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, replaying the vision in his mind. "Yes! I saw the sign. Westgrove House. It's an apartment building."

"Look it up, Jim," John commanded, and Jim immediately took out his phone. "Dean, come with me. Jim, stay here and take care of Sam."

Sam's eyes opened and he looked betrayed. "No!"

"Yes, Sam. You need to rest. Stay here. We'll take care of him."

With strength Dean wouldn't have believed he possessed even a few seconds ago, Sam pushed Dean's hands away and stood. "I'm coming," he said firmly

"Dad's right," Dean said. "You're about to drop. Take some painkillers, lie down and let us go fix this."

Sam walked away to the door, wavering slightly, and gripped the frame hard as he pulled it open. "We don't have time to argue," he said.

"It's on Weiss Street," Jim said, his eyes on Sam.

"There's no time to argue," Sam repeated. "We have to go, _now_." There was a sense of urgency in his voice.

Jim followed Sam out and John turned worried eyes on Dean. "Why won't he listen? Just one time?"

Dean thought he understood. "Because he just saw a man get decapitated by a window. He needs to do what he can."

"Damn stubborn idiot," John said ripping back the door so it hit the wall and running out after them.

Sam was waiting by the Impala, one hand braced on the roof as if for support. He looked like hell but his eyes were blazing. John snatched the keys out of Dean's hand and made for the driver's side. Dean slid into the backseat beside Sam as Jim climbed in shotgun. With a muttered curse, John threw himself in behind the wheel and brought the engine to life. He yanked on the wheel with much less care than he usually treated the car and they skidded out of the lot.

Jim had his phone in his hand and he was directing John along the streets. He told John to pull the car over and climbed out close to a man with a grocery sack in his arms. "Mr. Miller?" he called. "We need to talk to you."

The man turned back and shook his head. "I'm not in the mood for God today. Go find someone else to pester." He hurried his steps to an apartment building and used a key to unlock the door.

"Mr. Miller, please!" Sam said, stumbling towards him.

"Go away!" he said, walking through the door and slamming it closed behind him.

Sam slapped his hand on the glass inserts framing the door. "Roger! You're in danger! We can help!"

Through the window, Dean watched him shake his head and walk up the stairs.

Sam turned panicked eyes on John. "What do we do? We have to get him out of there!"

Jim moved Dean roughly aside, muttered something, and then rammed his elbow through the glass insert, smashing it. He pulled his sleeve down low over his hand and reached through to the lock. The door opened and Dean rushed inside. He was checking the names over the addresses on the mail slots when Jim said, "No time." He reached past Dean and yanked on the fire alarm lever. A blaring sound poured from the speaker above them and Dean grinned.

"Nice job, Jim."

He heard doors opening and people coming down the steps and quickly slipped out of the door to the street. John and Sam were already out there, standing a little back among the other people that had stopped to gawk at the supposedly burning building. Dean and Jim joined them as the door opened and people flew out.

Dean tilted his face to the upper floor, outwardly searching for a sign of the fire like everyone else, but his eyes watched the faces coming out with Sam, waiting for the look of recognition.

"He's not coming," he muttered. "Why isn't he coming?"

"Give it a minute," John advised.

"There isn't time!" Sam said angrily. He started around the side of the building.

"Wait here. Keep him here if he comes out," Dean instructed his father and Jim then followed Sam as he walked down an alley and stopped, slapping his hands on a high wire gate that blocked their way. He stepped back and half turned, as if he was going to try to shoulder charge it open.

Dean was pretty sure he was going to end up on his ass if he tried, so he moved Sam gently aside and aimed a kick just to the right of the lock. It broke and the gate flew open. They rushed through and turned the corner to the back of the building. There was a fire escape on the second floor, accessible via a sliding ladder. Dean didn't bother to try to pull it down. He just jumped and caught the side of the metal balcony and hauled himself up.

"Stay there," he called down to Sam.

For once, Sam obeyed. He stepped back and looked up at the side of the building. "There's someone up there, Dean," he said.

Dean looked up and saw the shadow of a person moving a few floors above him.

"Roger?" Sam shouted hopefully. "Wait there!"

The shadow stopped and someone cursed. "Go away!"

Dean pounded up the stairs and then he heard a cry of shock. He automatically looked down at Sam and saw him standing with his hands upraised and his face stunned. Dean followed his gaze up in time to see something fly past him and hit the ground with a loud thump.

Dean looked over the rail and saw the man, Roger Miller, lying broken and clearly dead on the concrete in front of Sam.

He pounded down the steps and lowered himself down to the ground. Sam was frozen, staring at the body in front of him with a horrified expression.

"Come on, Sam," Dean said, tugging on his arm. "We have to get out of here!"

Sam wavered and Dean pulled his arm over his shoulders and hurried him out onto the street. It seemed Sam's strength had left him with his defeat. Dean opened the car door and watched, concerned as Sam almost fell inside. He turned back to where John and Jim were and whistled twice. John turned and saw him standing by the car. He took in Dean's panic and rushed toward him, Jim right behind him.

"What happened?" he asked.

"No time," Dean said. "Just get us out of here."

He ran around the car and got into the backseat beside Sam who was sitting with his head leaning against the window and his eyes shut. John and Jim got in and they roared away from the sidewalk.

"Are you okay, Sam?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded but didn't speak.

"What happened?" John asked again.

"Roger Miller is dead," Sam said quietly.

"He fell off the fire escape," Dean explained.

"No," Sam said. "He was pushed."

Dean frowned. "There was no one else up there, Sammy."

Sam opened his eyes and looked at Dean. "I know. I saw it though. He didn't fall; he was thrown off the side."

John glanced at Dean through the rearview mirror, his eyes concerned. "Saw like a vision?"

"No. I actually saw it. He didn't stumble or trip. One moment he was in the middle of the balcony, the next he was flying over the railing." He turned his head to look out of the window again, but not before Dean got a good look at his pained expression.

"What are we going to do?" Jim asked.

John considered for a moment before answering. "Sam's going to rest. The rest of us are going to find out everything we can about Max Miller and his family. We'll get Ash on it, too." He glanced back. "That okay with you, Sam?"

"Yeah, fine," he said dully, letting his eyes slide shut again.

John nodded, satisfied, and turned them onto the highway.

* * *

Sam's head was aching still and he felt weak. He had no energy to argue when John saw him into his and Dean's room and directed him onto the bed. He felt that he had barely closed his eyes before he was asleep. He was vaguely aware of John draping a blanket over him and saying, "We'll be just next door.

He didn't know how long he slept before he was jolted awake again by his dream. His head pounded with pain and he swayed when he tried to get up. He needed to sit on the edge of the bed for a moment before he could stand. He tried to run out of the door, but he staggered and had to lean on the wall for support. He took a deep breath and tried to get a hold on himself. He needed to tell them what he had seen. He started across the room again, relieved to find he was a bit steadier now. He pulled open the door and walked out, letting it swing closed behind him. The distance between the rooms wasn't long, and he felt himself growing stronger with each step.

He slapped his hand on their door and shouted for his father. John opened the door looking startled. Dean was standing just behind him and Jim in front of the chair he'd evidently just vacated.

"Sam!" John said.

"Max _is_ the killer!" Sam said breathlessly. "I saw him. He's going to kill Alice. We have to get there _now_!"

Without a word of argument, John leaned back into the room, grabbed his gun from the table and tucked it into the back of his pants, then came outside.

"You okay?" Dean asked as he rushed out behind his father.

"Yes," Sam lied. "We have to hurry though."

They climbed into the Impala and John pulled out of the spot before the doors were even closed. He drove recklessly fast through the streets, but Sam didn't have a word of complaint to offer. He was explaining his vision. "It's telekinesis. He's going to use it to stab Alice through the eye. We have to stop him."

"We will," Dean said darkly, checking the clip of his gun.

Sam flinched. "We can't kill him!"

"He's a murderer, Sam," Dean said doggedly. "We can't prove the murders, so the cops are useless. He can't be left to kill more people."

Sam looked imploringly at Jim who looked thoughtful. "There might be another way," he said.

"What?" John asked.

"If he's telekinetic, he's the same as Sam. He's one of the 'special ones' you mentioned. It's not his fault."

"The fact he's using his power to kill people _is_ his fault," John said bitterly. "I'm sorry, Sam, but we've got no choice. He has to be stopped like any other monster we hunt."

Sam rallied for any other argument than it was wrong, but before he could come up with anything, they were pulling up outside the Millers' house. Sam got out and hurried to the door. He knocked loudly and it was opened a moment later by Alice. Sam breathed a sigh of relief that she was still alive. They hadn't been too late again.

She clearly hadn't heard about Roger, as she didn't look upset, but she was confused, and her eyes fell on Jim as she asked, "Is there something wrong, Pastor?"

"May we come in?" Jim asked. "There's something we need to talk to you about."

"Of course," she said.

They followed her inside and to the living room. Sam looked through the door and saw Max standing in the kitchen. The knife he would have used to kill Alice was on the counter by a pile of vegetables on a chopping board. Sam smiled at him and Max nodded in return as he came into the living room. He looked wired; his eyes were too bright and they darted around the room.

"What can I do for you, Pastor?" Alice asked.

Jim looked solemn as he pushed back his jacket and prepared to sit down. Sam saw the glimpse of a gun in a holster at his side.

Max made an inarticulate sound of shock and pointed at Jim accusingly. "You're not a pastor!"

"What?" Alice asked. "Pastor?"

"I am a pastor, Max," Jim said. "I'm here to help you."

Max shook his head, his body trembling and gestured towards him. The gun shot out of Jim's holster and flew into Max's hand. John and Dean leapt to their feet and pulled their own guns. Before they could bring them up to aim, Max had whipped them out of their hands and sent them skidding across the floor. Max raised the gun and aimed it at Sam. Everyone else immediately froze.

Sam felt his heart falter in his chest and then start to race as he looked at the gun in Max's shaking hand.

"Max!" Alice cried. "What are you doing?"

Max ignored her. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his eyes fixed on Sam.

Sam licked his lips. He could feel John's and Dean's eyes on him but he didn't dare meet them. "I'm here to help you, Max," he said.

"Liar!" Max hissed. "You came to kill me, didn't you?"

"No," Sam said, raising his hands slowly. "I didn't bring a gun. I came to help. Look into my eyes and see if I'm lying."

Max stared at him for a moment and then nodded, apparently seeing the truth Sam was trying desperately to show. "They were going to though," he said.

"They brought guns because they were scared," Sam said. "They thought they had to stop you. You don't need to be stopped though, do you? You can do that yourself."

Max's eyes darted to Alice and he nodded. "I'll stop when it's over."

"Max," Alice whimpered tearfully.

Sam took a breath and forced himself to sound calm as he said. "Let's talk. Just me and you."

"Sam, no!" Dean said.

Sam allowed his eyes to flicker to him for an instant, seeing his fear and desperation, and then quickly looked back at Max. "Just us, Max. I know you need to talk to someone."

Max nodded slowly and pointed his gun at his mother. "Get out. All of you. Out!" His voice rose to a shout.

"We can't do that, Max," John said.

"Out!" Max bellowed, sweeping his free hand through the air. As if they were in a strong wind, John, Dean, Jim and Alice were pushed out of the room and into the hall beyond. There was a thud and shout of shock, and Sam prayed selfishly that it was Alice that had been hurt. The door slammed closed and with a flick of his hand, Max swept a heavy dresser in front of it. He turned to the door they had come in through, and it, too, slammed closed and was blocked by a sideboard.

"Sam!" John bellowed, and there was the sound of fists on wood.

Ignoring them completely, Max turned back to Sam, the gun still in his hand, and said, "Talk!"

Sam swallowed hard, feeling terrified but keeping his voice steady as he said, "Can I sit?"

Max nodded. Sam sank down onto the couch and laid his hands flat on his knees. Max sat opposite and put the gun in his lap.

Forcing away the sounds of John and Dean's desperate shouts, Sam said. "I know what you did to your dad and uncle. I want to help you."

Max laughed mirthlessly. You know, do you? How?"

"I saw," Sam said. "I have powers, too. You can move things with your mind, and I can see visions of things that are going to happen."

Max looked amused. "Did your _visions_ show you why I did it, too?"

"No," Sam said.

"Then you wouldn't understand," he replied.

"Explain it to me. Help me understand."

Max lifted the side of his shirt, exposing his chest. It was marred with deep bruises.

"They did this to you?" Sam asked, horrified.

"My uncle," he said. "Today when he came and took me upstairs. He did it sometimes, when he felt like joining in, but mostly it was my dad. Ever since I was a kid, they would beat me, mock me, treat me like an animal."

Sam felt sick. He knew it happened, people hurt their children, but he'd never seen the physical evidence of it before. "I'm sorry," he said. "I can't even imagine how that must have felt."

"No, you can't," Max agreed. "So you won't be able to understand why I have to do this. I have to kill her."

"Did she hurt you, too?" Sam asked.

"No, but she never stopped it either. She would just watch it happen, never lifting a finger to help me." He sighed. "When my dad married her, I thought there would finally be someone to help me. But she never did. She listened as my dad ranted and raged at me, blaming me for everything, and she never said a word."

"She's not your mom?" Sam said.

"Step-mom," he said. "My real mom died when I was a baby. That's why dad hated me so much. He blamed me for her death.

"Why would he blame you?"

"Because she died in my nursey. He thinks he saw all this crazy crap happening, her on the ceiling on fire."

"A fire," Sam breathed. "How old were you, Max?" he asked intensely. We're you six months?"

Max frowned. "Six months exactly. How did you know?"

"Because the same thing happened to my mom," Sam said. "There was this thing, this monster, and it killed her."

"A monster like me?" he asked with a grim smile.

"You're not a monster," Sam said. "I know what monsters look like. I was raised by one. He was twisted and evil. You're not. You've just…"

"Made some bad choices?" he suggested. "I don't think that'll convince the cops I'm innocent, do you?"

"The cops aren't going to know about this," Sam said "There is no need. It looks like a suicide and an accident. As long as you let Alice go, we can help you. We're special, Max, you and me. There's a fight coming, and we'll need each other. We can help you, but you have to let her go."

"I can't," he said in a broken voice. "So long as she's alive, it won't leave me. I'll always be scared."

"You don't have to be scared anymore," Sam said. "Look what you can do now. You'll never have to be hurt again. Please, let us help you. Don't let them win."

"They're not winning if they're dead," Max said.

"They are. They're changing you from who you really are."

Max fell silent, and for the first time Sam registered the sounds from the hall. John was shouting threats at Max, telling him what he'd do if Sam was hurt.

"It's over now, isn't it?" Max said dully.

"Yes!" Sam said emphatically. "They can't hurt you now."

Max nodded slowly. He bowed his head and then lifted the gun. Sam felt a surge of fear as he thought Max was going to shoot him, but he turned it on himself, pressing it against the side of his head.

"Max, no!" Sam shouted even as Max started to pull the trigger.

There was a bang and blood burst from the side of his head, spattering the couch and wall behind. Max fell forward, his body crumpling to the floor exposing the gruesome wound.

"No," Sam whispered, bowing over and starting to cry quietly.

He wasn't sure how long passed before he became aware of more than his own overwhelming sadness. He straightened and averted his eyes from the gory sight in front of him stood and walked to the barricaded door.

"I swear to God, if you've hurt my son, I will _kill_ you!" John was bellowing while Dean just shouted his name with increasing desperation.

Sam planted his feet on the ground and pushed at the dresser, putting all his weight behind it. It shifted slowly, creeping along the floor until the door was revealed. He opened it just as John began to bellow again. When he caught sight of Sam he grabbed at him and dragged him into his arms. His hand came up to the back of Sam's head and pushed his face into his shoulder. Sam felt a hand on his back and knew it was Dean.

"Oh God, Sam," John whispered. "We thought you were…" He released him and then took his shoulders and held him at arm's length. "Did he hurt you?"

Sam shook his head. "I was too late though. I couldn't stop him."

Alice was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall with Jim kneeling beside her. There was a bloody cut on her forehead. At Sam's words, she gasped. "Max is dead?"

Sam nodded and she began to cry, gasping sobs that made her shoulders heave. Sam wanted to say something cutting about how she had failed to protect him, but he couldn't find the will. He thought her guilt and grief were going to eat at her for the rest of her life, and he thought that was maybe what she deserved.

* * *

 **So… How do you feel about Max? Dean called him a 'pasty little psycho' in canon, but I always felt kinda bad for him. I knew he was too unstable to keep for the rest of the story, but I felt bad for killing him.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	18. Chapter 18

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing this for me and Gredelina1 for supporting and helping. Thank you all for reading xxx**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Eighteen**_

When Jessica passed through the arrivals of San Francisco airport, she saw Sam waiting at the head of the small crowd. Some of the waiting people were holding up name signs of people they were there to pick up and others were waiting anxiously for loved ones. In Sam's hands was a whiteboard with the word 'fiancée' drawn on it in neat print.

His face lit up at the sight of her. She wheeled her small case to him and laughed as he dropped the whiteboard to free up his arms to hug her. He squeezed her to him for a moment and then pulled back and kissed her firmly on the lips. She felt the eyes of people on them, and she wondered what they were thinking. Did they imagine an extended parting at an immense distance? She had been gone three days and only an hour's flight away.

She was surprised by his enthusiastic welcome, and she quirked a brow. "What was that for?"

"I missed you," he said. "It's strange being at home without you. I didn't like it."

"Now you know how I feel when you take off saving people."

Sam's happy smile disappeared. "I'm sorry."

She brought a hand up to cup his face. "I understand. It scares me when it happens, and I worry the whole time you're gone, but I do understand why you have to go."

He brightened again. "What did I do to deserve you?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. You're only a good and kind man with a loving heart that cares about helping people. I have no idea what I'm doing with you."

"Me either," Sam said. "Let's get you home." He bent and picked up the whiteboard and her case in one hand and wrapped his free arm around her back.

"What have you been doing while I've been gone?" she asked.

"Studying mostly. I saw Rick yesterday. He's doing okay," he said, forestalling her question. "And Zach came over for a beer last night."

"Sounds good."

"Yeah, it was good to see him."

They walked out to the parking lot and Sam led her to the car. He opened her door and then stowed her case and the whiteboard in the trunk before getting in. He started the engine and pulled them out of the spot. They had to crawl along in the traffic trying to leave the airport for a while, but they finally reached the 101 and built up speed.

"Did you find a dress?" Sam asked.

"I did." She smiled wistfully as she thought of her wedding dress. It had taken a long time of searching and trying on what felt like an endless stream of different designs. They had been beautiful but none of them had been right. The moment she tried on the last one, she knew it was the one. It was perfect. The reaction of her mom and sisters had clinched it. Now it was being delivered to her Mom's house ready for the big day. The approaching wedding felt suddenly very real to her.

"What does it look like?" Sam asked.

"Do you seriously think I'd tell you that?"

"C'mon, Jess. I need to know so I can coordinate my suit."

Jessica laughed. "You think you're choosing your own suit? That's so sweet. Mom is already checking out tailors for you."

"Will you at least tell me what color it is?" Sam asked.

"Hot pink," Jessica said quickly.

Sam's eyes darted to her. "Seriously?"

"No, dumbass, it's white. That's all you're getting though. I will tell you about every other detail of our wedding if you like, but I am _not_ spoiling the surprise of the dress."

"Like I'll even notice what you're wearing," he said. "I'm going to be looking at your face."

"Right answer," she said approvingly.

Sam nodded happily. "So, did you meet any movie stars in LA?"

Jessica grinned. "Actually, I did. I wasn't going to tell you yet, but Matt Damon was there and we kinda fell in love. I'm going to marry him instead now. You don't mind, do you?"

Sam managed to keep a straight face as he clapped a hand to his chest and said, "You're breaking my heart."

"Well, if it matters that much to you, we can still get married and Matt and I can have an illicit affair."

"You'd do that for me?" he asked with affected pleasure.

She sighed. "I guess. I mean I'm fond of you and all, and you can cook."

"Thank God for it," Sam said. "Otherwise we'd subsist on pizza, Chinese food, cakes, and cookies."

Jessica shrugged. He probably wasn't wrong. She looked across at him and he glanced at her and smiled serenely. Sam joked about what he had done to deserve her, but she knew the real marvel was that he'd chosen her. He wasn't just clever and kind and everything else she admired in him, he was brave, too. He didn't tell her much of what happened when he went off with John and Dean following his visions, but Dean had told her a little. He put himself in danger to save others. With hardly any knowledge or experience of the things John and Dean did every day, he threw himself in and saved lives. What woman could possibly not love him?

She laid her hand palm up on the console and he held it in his own with a peaceful look on his face.

"We've got the rest of spring break to fill," she said. "What shall we do?"

"Take the wheel," he said quickly.

She frowned. "What?"

"Take the wheel! Take the wheel, Jess!"

The strain in his voice jolted her into action more than the words. She leaned over the console and grabbed the wheel as his hands came up to his face.

"Sam?" she said nervously.

Sam groaned as he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and drew his knees up. The car slowed and horns blared as Jessica steered them to the side as they coasted to a stop. Jessica flipped on the hazard lights and pulled on the parking brake before she turned to Sam, ignoring the people gesticulating at them and leaning on their horns as they drove past.

She rubbed the back of his neck and spoke softly. "Okay, baby, just breathe. It's going to pass soon."

She'd heard about the non-dreaming visions and he'd said they'd hurt him, but she had never seen one. She realized now that the word 'hurt' was a serious understatement. They weren't painful; they were agonizing. She was scared to see him suffering like this.

Sam obeyed, drawing in a deep breath that became a moan on the exhale. It seemed to Jessica that it lasted a lifetime, but a glance at the dashboard clock told her it had been less than a minute. Sam's hands slowly lowered from his face and he drew a couple deep breaths.

"What did you see?"

Sam fixed his startlingly bloodshot eyes on her and said in a wrecked voice, "You."

"What's going to happen to me?" Jessica asked.

"Nothing," Sam said firmly. "I'm going to stop it."

"Sam?"

"Nothing!" he bit out. "I will stop it!"

He shook his head as if to clear away the last of the vision, turned off the hazards and released the parking brake before easing the car back into the traffic streaming past them.

"Is it the same as last time?" she asked.

Sam grimaced and that was answer enough. Her heart raced in her chest and her breaths came quick. They were coming for her again.

"It's okay," Sam said soothingly, despite the hoarse quality to his voice. "We're going to take care of it." With one hand on the wheel, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and hit a speed dial. He pressed a button and Jessica heard the dial tone through the tinny speaker. "Hold this for me." He handed her the phone and she took it and held it between them.

It seemed to ring for a long time before John answered, his voice obviously pleased. _"Sam, how are you? Is Jess back yet?"_

"She's here," Sam said curtly. "Dad, we've got a problem. They're coming again."

John's tone became businesslike. _"Who's coming?"_

"A demon. It's coming for Jess, I saw it."

John cursed and then his voice became distant as he said _, "Dean, find flights. We've got to get to Sam."_ He came back clear and said. _"Do you have any idea when?"_

"Soon," Sam said. "My books were on the couch where I left them this afternoon."

Jessica wouldn't usually let them sit there if she was home. She'd have cleaned up after him, which meant it was coming very soon. Probably today. She glanced at the clock again. It was a little past five. If John and Dean were far enough away to need to fly back, they wouldn't be there in time.

" _Did you see anything else?"_ John asked. _"Who it was?"_

"I think it was a man," Sam said. "I just saw an outline. He was in the shadows."

" _Okay,"_ John said in a tone that Jessica thought was designed to be calm but failed. _"We're coming."_

Dean's voice came loud and strained. _"There's nothing till morning, Dad."_

Sam cursed loudly.

" _Calm, Son,"_ John said. _"We're going to fix this. We'll drive. We're leaving now."_

"What do I do, Dad?" Sam asked desperately. "If it's today, you'll never make it in time."

" _We're coming as fast as we can,"_ John said _. "We'll see if anyone is closer. Caleb was in the area last I heard."_ He spoke away from the phone. _"Dean, call Caleb. Call everyone. We need to find someone who's close."_

"Dad!" Sam's voice broke. "What do I _do_?"

" _You can handle this, Sam,"_ he said. _"You've faced worse. You just need to trap it."_

Sam's eyes darted to Jessica and he looked scared. "You're coming?"

" _As fast as I can,"_ John said _. "Both of us. And we'll find someone closer. You're both going to be okay. Trust me. Can you do that?"_

"Yes," Sam said without hesitation. "But hurry."

" _We will,"_ John vowed _. "As fast as we can. Someone will come for you, I promise. I've got to go."_

There were the sounds of car doors slamming and the Impala's distinctive engine starting.

"Okay," Sam said, forcing confidence into his tone. "I'll see you soon."

" _You will."_ There was the sound of a disconnected call and the screen darkened.

Jessica set the phone down and laid her hand on Sam's trembling leg. "I'll be okay, baby," she said, trying to sound confident. "They're coming."

Sam nodded but his jaw was locked with tension. Jess understood how he felt, as she was feeling the same. John and Dean weren't the only ones coming; the demon was, too. Unless there was another hunter close by, Sam and Jessica were on their own.

* * *

Sam felt nauseous as he unlocked the apartment door and walked in. It wasn't just the aftermath of the vision that made him feel ill, it was fear, too. There was no one to help. The closest hunter friend Dean could find was Daniel Elkins, and was he was in Colorado. Even John and Dean were closer than that, and they were in Washington.

He walked into the living room and stopped, staring at the books on the couch that told him danger was approaching fast. "Did you get it?" Jessica asked from the kitchen doorway.

Sam held up the can of spray paint he'd been out to buy and Jessica nodded, satisfied.

"Want me to do it?" she asked.

"You're a better artist than me," Sam said, walking to her and handing it over.

"I don't think this is about creativity, but I'm definitely neater." She smiled at him but he could see it was forced. She was as scared as him. "Hold up the picture for me."

Sam took the sketch of the devil's trap that was painted in the hall and living room and held it up for her to copy.

They were working with the theory that the demon would know better than to step into the trap in the living room after its predecessor had been caught there, so they were laying one under the rug that was already on the kitchen floor. They figured spray paint would dry faster than using the longer lasting liquid paint that John and Dean had used before. They wanted it dry and under the rug long before the demon arrived. Sam guessed that they had at least couple hours before it came, as it had been dark outside in his vision.

Jessica bent and carefully painted in a large circle on the floor and then began to add in the lines and symbols, looking up occasionally to check the picture. When it was complete, she stood and snapped a picture on her phone and tapped at the keys for a moment.

"I've sent it to Dean," she explained. "He'll be able to see if it's okay."

Sam's eyes moved between the painted symbol and the sketch in his hand. "Looks perfect to me."

Her phone beeped and she checked it. "Dean agrees."

"Good."

"What do we do now?" she asked.

Sam braced himself for a fight and said, "We get you out of here."

He'd been thinking it over on the way back from the hardware store. Jessica couldn't be there when the demon came. She had been hurt last time; she could have been killed even. After seeing the vision of her pinned to the ceiling, bloody and burning, he couldn't bear to risk her again. They would get her out of there and Sam would lure the demon in under the pretense of Jessica being inside. If he could just get the demon into the trap, he could exorcise it. He knew John and Dean wanted him to wait and let them do it, but he couldn't leave it that long. What if it got free somehow? What if it had a friend to come back it up? He needed her gone.

Jessica crossed her arms over her chest and looked him in the eyes. "No."

"Jess, please," he said. "You have to let me do this. I can't let you be hurt again."

"And you think I can let you be hurt? No, Sam. You're scared, I get that, but so am I. Neither of us have done anything like this alone before. I've come the closest, as I was alone with Brady before he knocked me out, but even I'm basically clueless. You need me here."

"What if you're hurt?" he asked desperately. "How am I supposed to live with that?"

"How am I if you're hurt?" she asked. "Neither of us are hunters, but we've got to face a hunter's fight. You're already wrecked from that vision. You need me here."

Sam closed his eyes and tried to find a counter-argument. He felt Jessica's arms wrap around him and he buried his face in her hair.

"We're in this together," she said.

Sam held on to her tight and whispered. "I'm scared, Jess."

"Me too. But we're also strong. We can be scared and strong together. Okay?" She pulled back to look at him. "Yeah?"

Sam thought of his determination to be there when John and Dean had cleansed Jenny's house and when he had wanted to face Max Miller. They had been scared for him, but they'd let him do it. He had to let Jessica do it, too, because he knew how it felt.

* * *

Jessica was sitting on the couch with her feet curled under her and a book in her hands. She was trying to read the article she knew she would be quizzed on in class to distract herself, but it wasn't working. When the knock at the door came, she started and her heart raced. She heard Sam shift in the bedroom where he was hidden. He had argued, wanting to be with her in the open, but this was the only way it would work. They had to make it look as though she was home alone. Sam had moved the car across town to the library, making it look like he was studying there.

She got up from the couch and tried calm herself as she walked to the door and unlocked it. As it swung open, she had to choke back a gasp. It was Rick on the doorstep.

Though Brady, one of their best friends, had been possessed, Jessica hadn't imagined they would use the same ruse again. Though in hindsight, she realized it made sense. Rick was someone she'd invite into her home readily.

"Rick!" she said, proud of the surprised but welcoming note to her tone. "Is everything okay?"

Rick looked appropriately downcast as he said, "I missed my spot at the shelter. I was late getting there and it was full."

"Oh no," Jessica said sympathetically. "Come on in."

She turned her back and walked away into the living room, hearing the scrape as he scratched away at one of lines of the trap under the door. Certain beyond doubt that he was the demon, she walked swiftly across the living room without looking back at him.

"Sam not home?" he asked behind her.

"No, he's at the library," she called back. "Are you hungry?"

"Starved."

"Come on through," she said, walking into the kitchen. "We've got some leftovers I can heat and then we'll sort out a motel for you. Does that sound okay?"

"Sounds great." There was a hint of a leer in his voice now.

She walked to the fridge and began to root through the Tupperware boxes with apparent purpose. "Can you get me a plate?" she asked without looking at him. "They're in the cabinet by the stove."

She knew he would have to pass over the rug and through the trap to get to it. She just hoped he would play along with his ruse long enough. If he decided to attack already, she was in trouble, relying on Sam to get him in the trap.

He seemed to be enjoying the pretense though as he said, inflecting his tone with gratitude, "I really appreciate this, Jess. You and Sam are good people."

She heard him moving across the room and she bit her lip, willing their plan to work.

"I don't know what I'd do without…"

Jessica chanced a glance at him as he trailed off. He had just reached the patterned center of the rug, the spot the devil's trap was at.

"You dumb bitch," he growled.

"Sam!" Jessica shouted, skirting around the rug to the doorway. Sam ran out of the bedroom and stopped just behind her.

He turned her and his eyes raked her up and down. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Jessica said. "Not even a scratch."

He nodded and fixed his eyes on Rick. He looked pained as he took in Rick standing there with demon-black eyes. "How long?" he asked in a measured voice.

"A while now," he said. "Pretty much since the lovely Jess was attacked last time. Azazel needed to keep an eye on his investments."

Jessica's hand found Sam's and she squeezed. He interlocked their fingers and she could feel his tremors.

"I had a lot of fun in this meatsuit," Rick said gleefully. "I enjoyed all our chats about how you were going to save the world by giving the homeless a job and how worried you were about the people helping you. I assume you mean the hunters you've had tracking us down and making with the inquisition." He looked around the room theatrically. "Where is the rest of the dream team anyway?"

"They're on their way," Jessica said.

Rick looked amused. "That's good. Give me a little motivation. I'll enjoy burning you alive while Sam watches, and then I'll get him out of here. Your charred apartment should be a nice and harrowing welcome for them. Give them a chance to guess at whose bodies were lost in the inferno. Whether it was justsweet Jessica or if you were both turned into briquettes."

"You won't have a chance," Sam said doggedly.

"Really?" Rick said. "What exactly are you going to do to stop me?"

"We're going to take care of ourselves." Jessica smiled grimly. "We're going to exorcise you."

He laughed. "You think you can do that? Studied much Latin have you?"

"No," Sam said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. "We've got a cheat sheet though."

Rick's eyes widened slightly and for the first time he looked disconcerted. "You do that, your buddy won't make it," he threatened. "I'll tear this body apart."

Sam flinched and the paper shook in his hand.

"Baby," Jessica said gently.

He drew a breath through his nose and nodded. "We have no choice." He turned to the demon and started the Latin verse. " _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus. Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursion. Infernalis adversarii, omnis legio."_

"Can't say I didn't warn you," the demon said. With a loud and sickening cracking sound, he jerked his head to an unnatural angle, snapping Rick's neck.

Jessica screamed and Sam shouted, "No!"

With his head still at a sick angle, the demon grinned. "Oh, yeah. That feels good. Works out the kinks, you know?"

"Rick!" Sam cried dropping the exorcism.

The demon laughed. "Rick go bye-bye."

Jessica wanted to run and hide. She wanted to be away from this horror, but she couldn't. She needed to finish it. Sam was gripping the wall to hold himself up and his face was white. His eyes were fixed on the demon and he looked like he was going to be sick.

Jessica picked the exorcism up from the floor and fixed her eyes on the demon's face, wanting it to see hell approaching.

" _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus. Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursion. Infernalis adversarii, omnis legio. Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo draco maledicte"_

She put her hand on Sam's chest, feeling his racing heart pounding against her palm. She wanted to comfort him but she had a job to do. Keeping her voice loud and strong, she read the exorcism, using each word as a punishment to the animal that had killed their friend. She spoke the last words loudly, a command to tear the demon out of the body. _"Audi nos!"_

The demon's mouth flew open and black smoke poured from it. Jessica stumbled back, shocked, scared, and not knowing what to expect, but the smoke didn't attack. It funnelled to the ceiling and disappeared. Rick's body fell to the floor with an anticlimactic thud, his head at an unnatural angle on the rug.

Sam stumbled away from the wall and Jessica's hand fell to her side. He dropped to his knees beside Rick and laid a hand on his perfectly still chest. Tears began to slip down his cheeks and he released a moan of misery. Jessica kneeled beside him as he began to sob.

"I was supposed to help him," Sam said in a broken voice. "I was going to save him."

"I know," Jessica said, tears streaming down her own face. "I'm sorry."

Sam turned his haunted eyes to her and said in a menacing voice, "This demon has to be stopped. It's taken my mom. It tried to take you. Now it's taken my friend. I don't care what it takes now, we're ending it."

* * *

 **So… A moment of silence for Rick please. I loved him and didn't want to kill him, but it was pointed out to me that there had to be some cost for Jessica's survival. If you need someone to blame, go after Gredelina1. She made me do it ;-)**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	19. Chapter 19

**Thank you Jenjoremy for beta'ing this and being so good at helping with my random questions. Thank you Gredelina1 for all your help and support. Thank you all for reading and reviewing xxx**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Nineteen**_

Sam came out of the courthouse with the precious paper clutched in his hand. He jogged down the stone steps and came to a stop in front of his business adviser, Olivia Tondreau. She looked at him expectantly. "Is it done?"

Sam handed her the decree with the official signature that changed his name from Sam Hydeker to Sam Winchester.

She glanced down at it and smiled widely. "Congratulations, Mr. Winchester. Does this mean you're ready to move ahead?"

"Yes," Sam said enthusiastically. "As soon as we can."

"And the name…?"

"R. Hague Homes," he said, his excitement a little muted now.

She nodded her agreement. "I'll set the ball rolling. There will be paperwork to arrange, and I will contact you at each step, but this is it, Sam; it's happening now."

"Thank you," Sam said. "Call me if there's anything you need me to do."

"I will."

She held out a hand to him and he shook it then watched as she disappeared around the corner to the parking lot. Sam drew a breath and set off along the street, heading home.

Hague homes, he thought with regret. Rick would have been pleased to have his name on the project.

He hadn't known Rick's last name before; he'd never even thought to ask. In all their conversations, they had only discussed Rick's past on a few occasions, and that had been when Rick had been telling Sam about how things had gone so wrong for him. Sam should have asked more.

It had been two months since his death, and it still shocked Sam sometimes that he was really gone, especially now that he was finally starting the business they'd spent so long discussing and planning. It seemed grossly unfair that he wasn't there to see it coming together. But he was being honored as much as Sam could. Sam was giving Rick's name to the company and he would remember him with each step they took.

The plan was simple. They were going to build small homes for the homeless, with the people who would receive the homes having a part in the construction. They were going to employ trained builders and tradesmen on the proviso that they taught as they worked. The idea was that with enough help, the people would pick up a skill that could be developed into trade. They were going to give them tools that they could use to get themselves jobs and homes of their own. It would be small at first, a plot of land in Ridgecrest, and from there they would hopefully spread.

He was still looking for a business to develop to save people from ending up on the streets rather than getting them off them, but that would take time. He thought saving the people that were already there was a good start for James' wealth.

Sam decided that he would visit Rick's grave. He didn't go there to talk, as Jessica did when she visited, chattering as she laid her flowers; Sam liked to go there to just remember. He had been there many times since the funeral.

It had been difficult to make arrangements to bury Rick. Dean and John had taken care of staging the body to hide the truth of his death, but it had been complicated to have the body released to Sam when he wasn't a relative. They had searched, but Rick had never mentioned family before. Eventually, with the assistance of the homeless shelter, they'd been able to make arrangements for him. The gathering hadn't been large, but some people that had known Rick through the shelter came. It had been a quiet service arranged by Sam and Jessica together, a feeble apology for what had happened to him.

He had walked the short distance from the apartment to the courthouse, but the cemetery was further away. He considered going back and getting the car, but he thought the walk might be good for him. He had the rest of the day free anyway. Classes were over; finals were done. They were just waiting for their families to descend to see them graduate now.

Like most students, Sam had dreamed of this moment, when his first tenure at college was done and he could look forward to the next step. He'd imagined it as last peaceful days spent with Jessica and friends, just relishing the relief that was the end. He still felt some of that relief, but there was so much more to come for them. A wedding. A business to find and develop. Homes to build. A demon to wage war on. That last one was not the kind of worry most seniors had, but he felt more prepared for it now than he had at any point since the visions started. Rick's death, the colossal waste and tragedy of it, had lit a fire in him that fear couldn't quench.

He set off along the street, hands in his pockets and a thoughtful smile on his face. He was halfway across the crosswalk when the pain seared through his head. He groaned, as much from the pain as the distress that it was happening again. He dropped the paper in his hand as his legs gave way and his knees hit the asphalt. The images flooded his mind.

He saw a young man with short dark hair and a scruff of stubble standing between the open doors of a blue van. He seemed to be searching for something. There was what looked like a mattress strewn with books, blankets and the largest bong Sam had ever seen. The man pulled a wallet out from under a blanket with a look of triumph. He stepped back and swung the doors shut. On the side of the van was an intricately painted picture of a woman riding a polar bear. The man walked along the sidewalk towards a building with the name declared as Simone's Cafe. He entered and the door swung closed behind him.

Sam came out of his head panting. His hands were tangled in his hair and he was hunched over, his head almost touching the road. A horn was blaring close to him and someone was speaking, "Hey. Kid, you okay?"

Sam raised his head and saw a middle-aged man with a thick beard peering down at him.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm fine."

"You don't look it," the man observed. "What was it, a migraine thing?"

"Yeah," Sam said, taking the man's proffered hand and getting unsteadily to his feet. He bent and picked up the paper and said, "It happens sometimes." He raised an apologetic hand to the driver of the car he'd blocked and carried on across the street, the man at his side.

"Do you need anything?" the man asked. "A doctor?"

Sam shook his aching head. "I just need to get home. I've got some medication to take."

"Are you going to be okay getting there?" he asked. "I'm parked around the block. I could give you a ride."

"It's not far," Sam said. "Thank you, though. I appreciate it."

The man frowned. "It looked like a helluva migraine to me."

"It was," Sam agreed, fighting the urge to press his fingers against his temples. "Thank you for your help."

He waved a hand in farewell and made his way along the street, the paper clutched in his hand and the visit to the cemetery forgotten. As he walked, he tried to push down the waves of pain to make sense of his vision. There had been no danger that he could see. It just looked like a normal man walking into the café to maybe get a coffee. He could see no threat. His other visions had been clear and the danger obvious whereas this was anything but. What was he missing? What was he supposed to do?

He took his phone from his pocket and hit the speed-dial assigned to his father. It rang through to voicemail and John's clipped voice said, _"This is John Winchester. Leave a message."_

Sam didn't bother to leave a message. He just ended the call and called Dean's cell. It rang through to voicemail, too, and his voice came through with a somber tone despite the easy words. _"This is Dean Winchester._ _Leave your name, number, and nightmare at the tone."_

Sam was concerned that he could reach neither of them, but he reminded himself that their line of work meant that they couldn't always sit by the phone. He grimaced as a particularly sharp jab of pain cut through his head and said, "Dean, it's me. I've got a problem. Call me."

He forced himself on, sifting through the vision for some other clue. It was hard as his head was still clouded with pain. He still hadn't made sense of it before he got to the apartment. He let himself in and walked into the living room. He could hear Jessica in the kitchen, singing along to the radio.

"Baby?" she called. "That you?"

Even though they had given John and Dean keys to the apartment, they had yet to use them when they knew Sam or Jessica was home, but they each always asked when they heard someone arrive.

"Yeah," Sam called back.

"Did you get it done?" She appeared in the kitchen doorway, drying her sudsy hands on a cloth, and her smile faded as she caught sight of him. "What happened? Did you see something?"

"Yes." Sam allowed himself to drop onto the couch. "It wasn't us. It was some guy walking into a café. That's all I saw."

She hurried over and sat down beside him, her hand pushing back the hair from his forehead. "Nothing was hurting him?"

"Nothing," Sam said. "There was no one there, no danger, just this normal looking man doing normal things."

"Why would you see that?" she asked.

"I don't know. It felt like every other vision, the shock and pain, but there was nothing to hurt him."

Jessica rubbed at the back of his neck and he felt himself relaxing. The pain was fading now.

"I called my dad and Dean, but they must be working on something as they didn't answer."

"What are you going to do?" she asked. "If there's no danger…"

"I think we should go anyway," Sam said. "There may be something happening there that I couldn't see. If we can track this person down, we can at least talk to him, make sure he's okay."

"How are you going to find him?" she asked.

"There was a name of the café he went into. Simone's. I got a good look at the exterior. There might be something online, a picture maybe."

"In a minute," she said as she curled up against his side and he rested his cheek on top of her head, drawing deep breaths of her perfume. The pain was almost gone now but this vision felt somehow worse because he didn't know what it meant. He didn't know how to help.

With the force of an ax cleaving through his skull, pain surged again. He jolted as if an electric current had moved though him. He vaguely heard Jessica's voice calling to him and the shrill ringing of a phone. He felt Jessica rooting in his pocket and then the ringing cut off. "Dean!"

The vision came again. The same man walking through the café doors but this time he saw more. The man walked to the counter and a woman turned to greet him with a wide smile. Her lips moved and Sam heard the muffled name, "Andy". The man, Andy, nodded and she poured him a coffee and slid it across the counter.

As fast as the vision had come, it ended and Sam was left with his head in his hands and his breaths coming quickly.

"I think it's over," Jessica said into the phone then her hand fell on his back. "Sam? It's Dean."

Sam held out a shaking hand to Jessica for the phone and she gave it to him.

"Dean," he said quietly, even his own voice pulsing pain through his head. "There's a man called Andy. He's in a café called Simone's. It's a redbrick building. I don't know where."

" _What's going to happen to him?"_ Dean asked.

"I don't know. I didn't see anything that looked threatening. It was just normal stuff. No danger. But we need to check. Something has to be coming."

" _Okay,"_ Dean said. _"I'm coming to you. I'll get Dad to find this person."_

"No, I have to go find him now," Sam said.

"Sam, you're in no state to go anywhere," Jessica said firmly. "Let Dean take care of it."

Sam started to shake his head then groaned, "No!" as the pain returned.

Andy's face flashed through his mind again. He was walking along a street tossing keys from hand to hand with a smile on his face. Sam thought he was excited about something. He turned a corner and went into a post office. Sam felt a surge of relief, even through his pain, as Andy took a key from his pocket and unlocked a small mail box. He took out a sheaf of envelopes and tapped them against his hand. Sam focused on the neatly printed address on the letter. Andy turned to speak to a woman at the desk and the vision faded.

Jessica had taken the phone from his limp fingers and though Sam's could hear Dean's voice shouting through the small speaker, she didn't speak. Her eyes were fixed on Sam.

"Andy Gallagher," he said weakly. "Guthrie, Oklahoma."

With a deep sigh, he leaned back and gripped his aching head in his hands. Despite the pain, he wished he'd seen more. There was surely trouble coming for that man, Andy, and they needed to know what it was so they could help him.

* * *

Dean drove the last leg of his ride to Palo Alto even faster than his usual over-the-speed-limit pace. He was thankful that he had already been on his way to Sam's before the call. His plan had been to surprise Sam and Jess with a visit before graduation, but now his journey had a sense of urgency. He was on the San Mateo Bridge when his phone rang. He checked the screen and was relieved to see his father's name. He was worried any call from Sam or Jessica would bring bad news of more visions. He'd left his father a message asking him to call as soon as he could. He hadn't told him what was happening with Sam as he thought that was better coming from him and not in a voicemail, though he suspected Jessica had called him, too.

"Dad, have you spoken to them?" he asked upon answering.

" _Spoken to who?"_ John asked. _"I just got your message. I was with Bill. He tracked a demon and we were–"_

"That doesn't matter," Dean said curtly. "Sam's having visions again."

" _Visions,"_ John said carefully. _"As in plural?"_

"Yes. There's been three already."

" _What's he seeing?"_

"That's the weird part. It's nothing like the others. He's not seeing trouble. He's just seeing this kid doing normal crap. He's worried though, and he's hurting."

" _I'm on my way,"_ John said.

"No! You can't. Sam got a rough address for him, and you need to go check it out."

" _I need to be with my son,"_ John argued.

"Please, Dad. The only way Jess and I could persuade him to stay put at home was if one of us checked it out. I'm almost at his place now, so you have to go."

He heard the conflict in John's voice as he asked, _"Where do I need to go?"_

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "Guthrie, Oklahoma. It's a kid called Andy Gallagher. You might find him at a café called Simone's. Sam said something about a van with a polar bear on the side, too."

" _And we have no idea what's coming for him?"_

"None," Dean said. "Just stick close to him and see what happens."

" _Okay,"_ John said heavily. _"I'll go. Call me if he sees anything else. Call me if anything happens."_

"I will," Dean promised. He turned on his blinker to pull off the freeway. "I'm almost there. Let us know when you get to Guthrie, okay? Sam's going to want to know what's happening."

" _Of course,"_ John said. _"You just take care of your brother."_

"You know it," Dean said. "I'm almost there. I've got to go."

He said a quick goodbye and dropped the phone down onto the seat as he pulled into the parking lot beside Sam's apartment and found a spot. He cut the engine, climbed out, and walked quickly through the front door and up the stairs to Sam's apartment. He had never used his key before when Sam and Jessica were home, but he would now as he didn't want to deny Sam Jessica's presence for even a moment by making her come to answer the door. He was sure that after three visions in a matter of hours, Sam would be feeling wrung out and needing her comfort.

He unlocked the door and eased it open gently. He didn't call out, but he heard footsteps and Jessica appeared at the end of the hall. She pressed a finger to her lips and Dean nodded his understanding. She went to the bedroom door, peered inside, and then eased it closed.

"He's sleeping," she said quietly.

"Good," Dean said. "He needs to rest."

He joined her as she sat on the couch and ran a hand over her face. "There's been more."

"More!" Dean has witnessed the agony that accompanied Sam's visions and he couldn't imagine the pain his brother must be in after multiple visions in a single day.

"Two. They're the same person, just doing normal stuff still. It's taking it out of him though. He's scared."

"Dad's on his way to Oklahoma now," Dean said. "He's going to find this person and take care of him."

He hoped so at least. John could find him and do his best to follow him in public places, but if he went into a house or apartment, John would be down to lies and subterfuge to stay close to him. Dean wasn't sure which of their many false personas he could use to get this Andy to let him stick around. If there was something, even the smallest clue of what was coming for him, they would have a better chance at protecting him.

He stared over the back of the couch to the bedroom door. He felt sick at himself for even thinking it, but he almost wished Sam would have a vision of something that would actually be useful.

"I'm scared, too," Jessica said quietly. "I saw him have the vision of me when Rick came, and that wrecked him. He's had five already today. How many will there be? How many can he handle?"

"He's tough," Dean said.

"He is," she agreed. "But he's only human."

Dean nodded. He had the same fears as Jessica. He couldn't entertain them though. He had to be strong for all of them.

There was the creak of a door opening and Sam walked slowly into the living room.

Dean sucked in a breath at the sight of him. He looked terrible. His eyes were red rimmed and his skin pale. Dean and Jessica got to their feet automatically and walked towards him.

"Jesus, Sammy," Dean breathed. "You look like hell."

Sam forced a smile. "Hello to you, too."

Dean took his arm and Sam let him guide him to the couch. He sank down and Jessica quickly sat beside him. Sam smiled again and began to turn her ring on her finger. He looked vague, as if he wasn't fully awake.

"How are you feeling?" Dean asked.

"Tired more than anything," Sam said. "It's not really painful now. I feel like I could sleep for a week though."

"You should have stayed in bed," Dean scolded. "You look like you need the sleep."

"I heard you talking," Sam said. "I wanted to come say hey."

"Sometimes, it's okay not to be polite, you know?" Dean said. "You need to be resting."

"I will soon," Sam said, relaxing back against the cushions and closing his eyes.

Dean and Jessica exchanged a worried glance.

"Do you need anything?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head without opening his eyes. "Is Dad going to Oklahoma?"

"Yeah, he's going to keep an eye on this Andy, see if he can work out what's going on."

"Good," Sam said. "If I could just…" His face crumpled. "Not again."

He hunched over and began to draw heaving breaths. Dean's hands fluttered uselessly. He wanted to help, but he was at a loss for what to do. Jessica, tears in her eyes, laid her hand on his shoulder smoothed a thumb back and forth at the nape of his neck. She wasn't speaking but she was making soothing sounds.

Feeling desperate, Dean was forced to watch as his brother struggled through the pain of the vision. Eventually, he sighed and straightened up.

"Andy?" Jessica asked quietly.

Sam shook his head slowly.

"No?" Dean asked, surprised.

"No. It was a woman. I've never seen her before." He cast his desperate eyes to Dean. "What's happening? Why are they coming like this?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted. "But we'll fix it."

"How?" Sam asked miserably.

"Same way our family always does," he said, looking from Sam to Jessica. "Together"

* * *

John was used to being covert to get what he wanted. He'd posed as a cop before, a fed, a member of the CDC, and one memorable occasion, he and Dean had been park rangers and had given people random advice on fire safety when going after a Wendigo. He had no cover that would work for this Andy though, so he had to play it civilian.

He found the café Sam had mentioned and the van with the polar bear on the side—which incidentally also featured the bear being mounted by a sword-wielding woman in a leather bikini—parked outside. As he pulled up a little along the street and climbed out, the doors opened and distinctive smelling smoke billowed out. John raised an eyebrow at the temerity of the kid, smoking up so obviously. He thought it might work in his favor though; if the kid was stoned enough, he might not be as aware of John following him as he would otherwise.

The kid climbed out of the back of the van, slammed the doors closed again then sauntered along the street and into a bar. Glad of the public setting, John waited a beat and then followed him inside. The kid was standing at the bar, tapping his hands on the polished wooden counter to an uneven beat. John sidled up beside him and pulled a bill from his wallet.

A man dressed all in black with a Corona logo emblazoned on his t-shirt came along to where they stood. "Hey, Andy. What can I get you?"

Andy leaned back and surveyed the line of liquor bottles on the shelf. "Appletini please."

The bartender laughed. "Man, how baked are you?"

Andy shrugged. "Pretty."

The bartender reached under the counter and held out a bottle of Pabst. "Try a beer instead."

Andy took it and exchanged it for a bill. The bartender fetched him his change and then moved along to John. "What can I get you?"

"I'll take a Pabst," John said.

"You got it."

John took his beer and paid then watched from the corner of his eye as Andy slid onto a stool and looked around. John considered initiating conversation with him, but he decided against. As it was, he was a man in the bar and the kid was high enough to not notice him. If they spoke and then Andy saw him again, perhaps when he'd come down a bit, he might notice.

John took a draw on his beer and wished it was whiskey. He didn't want to be there. He wanted to be with his son. Sam was suffering through these visions, and Dean and Jessica were surely suffering with him. Instead of being with them, he was following this kid with no idea of what he was supposed to protect him from.

He took out his phone and checked the screen. There were no messages or missed calls, not that he'd thought there would be. He'd been checking it compulsively since he'd first spoken to Dean. He sighed and took another draw on his beer.

He looked around, selfishly hoping for some sign of who or what the threat to the kid was. If he could get it taken care of, he would be able to get to California to help. Or would he? When they'd last spoken, Dean said Sam had seen a woman. There had been no clue to who or where she was or what the danger was, but if he took care of Andy, would Sam want him to go after this unknown woman?

His phone trilled on the bar and he snatched it up. "Dean?" he said eagerly. "How is he?"

" _He's not doing so good,"_ Dean said. _"He's been seeing that woman again. Nothing new. It's taking it out of him though."_

John noted the use of seeing instead of seen and he asked, "How many times?"

" _A couple,"_ Dean said tiredly. _"He's really struggling, Dad."_

"I need to be there. This is a waste of time. I can't see anything coming and I'm not going to be able to follow him forever."

" _Sam wants you there,"_ Dean reminded him.

"The hell with that!"

" _I get it,"_ Dean said _. "I would feel the same if it was me, but there's nothing you can do here. There's nothing any of us can do for him."_

John heard the hopelessness in his voice and his chest ached. He needed to be there, even if there was nothing he could offer his son but his presence. He could tell him to be strong, reassure him that they were going to fix it somehow.

" _You have to stay there,"_ Dean said. _"Maybe if you can stop whatever's coming, these visions will stop for Sam, too."_ There was the sound of a voice in the background and Dean spoke quickly. _"I've got to go, Dad."_

"Another one?" John asked.

" _Yes."_

Dean cut the call and John pressed the phone to his forehead, his eyes squeezed shut as a heavy weight pressed on his chest. He couldn't do this. With or without him, Sam was suffering, but he felt useless sitting in that bar, hundreds of miles away from him.

"You okay?"

John's eyes snapped open and he saw Andy was looking at him curiously.

He shook his head. "No, I'm not."

"Bad news?" Andy asked.

"Yes."

"Tell me about it." It wasn't an offer; it was a command.

John frowned at the authoritative note to Andy's voice. Before he could question it though, he found himself speaking. "My son's in trouble. He needs me but I'm stuck here. I want to be with him, but I promised I would stay."

"Why?"

John shrugged. "It's what he wants."

"No, tell me _why_." Again, there was that same note to his voice and John found the explanation falling from his lips without his control.

"My son has psychic visions. They hurt him, like a killer migraine. He wants me here so I can protect you from whatever's coming for you, but I feel like I need to be with him."

Andy looked startled. "What's coming for me? Tell the truth!"

"We don't know. He normally sees people in danger. He's seen you, but not what's coming for you. I have to stay and follow you until it's over, so maybe it'll stop for him, too." He struggled to stop himself, but the words flew from him without his control. He was at the mercy of the kid's questions. "I'm scared for him."

"Then go to him," Andy said mildly, no command in him now.

"I can't," John said. "I promised."

"Screw that. Your son needs you. What else matters but that?"

John turned away. Trying to avoid the spell of whatever it was the kid was doing to him. "He needs me to do what he can't."

Andy clapped him on the shoulder and John turned.

"This is me doing you a favor," Andy said and then his voice gained the powerful note of before. "Go to your son! Leave now and don't look back. Don't stop until you're with him!"

John nodded eagerly. "Okay."

He picked up his phone from the bar and walked away. He turned back at the door and saw Andy's satisfied expression. Before the kid could say another word or command him again, John pulled open the door and rushed outside and to the truck. He still felt the compulsion to hurry, to get to Sam now, but he had no desire to fight it the way he had when he'd been blurting the truth to Andy.

He was finally getting to do what he wanted more than anything.

* * *

 **So… What do you think? I love Andy and we will absolutely be revisiting him soon. For now, we have to explore Sam's situation.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	20. Chapter 20

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for the fab beta job and Gredelina1 for all your help and support.**

 **UnicornSPNPotato started my day in the best way with a very kind PM and now I am feeling positive and gererous. Enjoy your early update xxx**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Twenty**_

The flight to San Francisco was mostly a blur for John. He queued restlessly at security and sat forward in his seat throughout the flight, as if that would get him there faster. He only felt even a hint of relief when he was brushing through the people at arrivals and getting out of the airport. He headed for the nearest cab and jumped in ahead of a young couple that were dragging their suitcases over to it. He heard their angry protest as he slid in and shut the door.

"Where you going?" the driver, a young man with shaggy hair, asked.

"Palo Alto," John said. "725 Alma Street."

He nodded and pulled away from the curb. "Sure thing."

John had considered calling Dean to collect him, knowing a cab was going to clear him out of cash, but he didn't want to take Dean from his brother. He knew it would take longer, too, if he had to wait for Dean, and the compulsion to get to Sam was strong.

When they got onto the highway, he took out his phone and dialed Dean's number.

He answered with a question. _"Have you stopped it?"_

"No," John said. "Something happened. I'm on my way to you now."

" _What? Wait."_ There were sounds of footsteps and Dean hissed, _"Where are you?"_

"I just left the airport," John said.

" _What the hell, Dad! You were supposed to protect Andy!"_

"I'm protecting who I'm supposed to," John said immovably, the force of his certainty and the compulsion strong in his voice. "I'll tell you about it when I get there."

" _Fine,"_ Dean said irritably. _"Sam's not going to be happy though."_

John felt a pang of regret that he was going to upset his son, but the need to get to him was stronger than his need to please him. "I know."

" _I'll see you when you get here, then,"_ Dean said and ended the call without a goodbye.

John knew he had disappointed both his sons in coming here, but it wasn't by choice. He had been compelled by both Andy and his own need to come; there was no fighting it.

He stared out of the window and watched the streetlights whip past the window. Thankfully, the driver seemed to know that he wasn't in the mood to talk, and so left him to his thoughts.

When they passed into the streets of Palo Alto, he sat up straight in his seat and waited impatiently to see the familiar outline of Sam's street.

Only when the cab stopped outside Sam's apartment building did he feel the weight on his chest that been there since he left Guthrie disappear and the clouded feeling of his thoughts vanish. He felt like he was waking up. He had done what Andy had commanded, he had come, and now his will was his own again.

He paid the fare with almost all that was left of his cash and climbed out. He looked up at the window of Sam's apartment and saw a light in the kitchen. Relieved they were still awake, despite the late hour, he walked inside and up the stairs. He knocked softly, not wanting to disturb Sam if he was resting, and waited. He heard footsteps approaching and Dean opened the door with a look of annoyance. He stepped back and John entered.

When Dean had closed the door behind him, John asked in a whisper. "How's he doing?"

"Not well," Dean said curtly. "I haven't told him you're coming. Didn't see the point in making him pissed as well as scared until he had to be."

He brushed past him and walked back into the living room. John followed and saw Sam and Jessica sitting on the couch. Sam was bowed over and Jessica was sitting with her hand on his neck speaking soft words of encouragement and comfort.

As John stood, frozen into inaction by the shock that he was having yet another vision, Dean walked past and sat on edge of the armchair and picked up a notepad and pen. As Sam drew a heaving breath and sat up, Dean leaned forward and asked in a soft voice. "What did you see?"

"It was a new one," Sam said hoarsely. "Woman. She's sitting in a hair salon. There are people around her, but she's the one I could see clearest. She's looking at a bridal magazine and smiling." He paused, bringing his hand to his head and digging his fingers into his temples. "She's wearing a ring. Yes, I think she's engaged."

"What does she look like?"

"Brown hair about down to her shoulders, blue eyes. She's pretty."

"Anything else?"

Sam shook his head. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Dean said. "You're doing awesome. We're getting more each time."

"How many have you had?" John asked.

Sam spun to look at him and John sucked in a breath. He looked terrible. His eyes were red rimmed and there were grey shadows beneath them. His skin was pale but for feverish spots of high color on his cheeks.

"Dad! What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I had to come," John said, moving further into the room and sitting down on the free armchair.

"Were we too late?" Sam asked sadly.

"No. Andy is fine," John said.

"Then why are you here?"

The disappointment in Sam's voice hurt John. He wanted his boys to be proud of him. He hurried to explain. "He was the one that sent me. I had no choice. This kid, Andy, told me to come and I had to."

"No offence, Dad, but that's pretty weak," Dean said.

"No, I mean I had _no_ choice. I think he's like Sam, one of the special children. He asked me what was wrong, and I told him. I couldn't stop myself; it was like he compelled me to do it. Then he told me to come here, to Sam, and I had to obey. It was like something else took over and made me do what he said. I knew what was happening, but I couldn't stop it. It didn't stop until I got here. This force or whatever, left." He looked at Sam. "I'm sorry, Son. I tried to do what you needed."

"What about Andy though?" Sam asked. "What if something comes for him?"

"I don't think you're seeing danger, Sam," John said. "I think you're seeing the others like you."

"Oh." Sam looked thoughtful. "They do all look around my age."

John nodded eagerly. "Exactly."

Dean looked down at the notepad, a frown creasing his brow. "There's a lot of them."

"How many?" John asked.

"Nine so far."

"You've had nine visions!" John said loudly and then quickly dropped his voice and apologized when Sam winced in pain.

"He's had over _twenty_ ," Dean said.

John stared at his son in shock. How was he still upright? The most John had seen him have before was three and he'd been wrecked.

"Time for some more meds?" Dean asked.

"Or a hospital," Jessica said quietly.

"You know they can't help me," Sam said gently, entwining his fingers with hers. "It's not a medical thing."

"Maybe not," she said. "But they have stronger painkillers than Tylenol."

"So do I," Dean put in. "You want some?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm okay. It's fading already."

Dean sighed heavily and turned to John. "So, this kid has mind control. That's awesome."

"I don't think he's dangerous. He helped me, sending me here, even after I babbled what was some pretty crazy crap. He seemed gentle enough."

"That's good," Sam said. "We'll have to be sure though. Max seemed okay at first, too."

"We'll check it out," John said.

"Now?" Sam asked hopefully.

"No," John said firmly. "We're going to take care of you first and then we'll take care of him."

He thought Sam's grimace was disappointment until his fingers clenched, squeezing Jessica's painfully enough that she winced. He bowed over again and a moan of pain escaped him. In what seemed to be a practiced routine, Jessica reached for him and began to soothe as Dean leaned forward, pad in his hand and concern on his face.

John was concerned too, and wanted to be with his son, but he knew he had to do something that would actually help him.

He stood and squeezed Dean's shoulder and jerked his head towards the kitchen door with a pointed look. Looking annoyed, Dean stood and followed John out of the room into the kitchen.

"What?" he asked impatiently.

"You got those meds with you?" John asked.

Dean nodded, seeming to understand what John was planning in the unspoken way they'd developed over a lifetime hunting together. He pulled them out of his pocket and handed them over.

"Perfect," John said, checking the label and shaking out a capsule into his hand. "Get me some juice."

Dean grabbed a glass and went to the fridge and half-filled it with orange juice. He carried it back to the counter and set it down while John teased the capsule open. He shook the grains of painkiller into the glass and swirled it to mix.

"Will one be enough?" Dean asked. "He is in a lot of pain, whether he admits it or not."

"We'll try one first," John said. "I'm hoping it'll get him to fall asleep and his exhaustion will do the rest."

Dean nodded. "Okay. Let's do it right." He went to a cupboard and pulled out a box of cookies. He took a few out and carried them into the living room on a plate with John following.

Sam was leaned back against the couch and breathing heavily. It looked like the vision had finished. Jessica was stroking a hand up his arm. She looked almost as bad as Sam. John could almost believe she'd been the one that had the vision.

"The blonde woman again," Sam said. "Nothing new. Just sitting in the dark room."

"We'll get to that in a minute," John said. "You need to eat and drink. You need to stay hydrated and your body needs the sugar."

Sam sat forward and took the glass from John and sipped at it. John watched him carefully for signs that he tasted the bitter pill, but he just drank it down and then took one of the cookies from Dean and nibbled at it.

Satisfied, John sat down again and picked up the notepad Dean had been recording the visions on. There were a lot of descriptions of the people Sam had seen and very few other details about them. One that caught his eye was a description of a man in a US Army uniform. He was the only one they had a name for.

Sam set down the glass with the half eaten cookies and thanked them quietly then rested his head back against the couch again.

John turned to Dean and spoke quietly, "This Talley kid, is there anything else on him?"

"No," Dean said. "Just that he's a soldier and it looked like he was on a US base."

John nodded thoughtfully. The plan he was slowly developing depended on them being able to find these kids, and if he'd been deployed it would be complicated.

They sat quietly for a while, John mulling the problem over in his mind. He watched Sam surreptitiously, waiting for the drugs to kick in.

"Baby?" Jessica said, concerned as Sam's hand came to his head. "Is it another one?"

Sam rubbed at his eyes. "No, I feel…" He trailed off, his gaze moving between the glass and John's face, looking betrayed. "What did you do?"

"You need sleep, Sammy," Dean said apologetically.

"You drugged me?"

"We helped you," John said, getting to his feet and walking to Sam. "Let's get you into bed."

Sam shook his head. "I don't need help."

John wasn't sure if he was commenting on what they'd done to him or the fact he could manage alone.

Sam struggled to his feet and walked heavily to the bedroom, supporting himself on the wall.

Jessica stood, too, and followed him out. She hesitated at the door and turned back to John. "Thank you," she whispered and then followed Sam into the bedroom.

"Well, that went well," Dean said sarcastically.

"As long as he's resting, it doesn't matter." John took out his phone and scrolled through the contacts.

"Who are you calling?" Dean asked.

"Help," John said simply.

He hit dial and waited as it was answered by a drowsy voice. "John?"

"Missouri, I need help," he said.

"What's happened?" she asked, sounding more alert now.

"It's Sam." His voice broke as he said his son's name.

"Okay, John," she said soothingly. "I'm coming."

John breathed a sigh of relief. He was at a loss to do more than ease Sam's pain by helping him sleep. Missouri was the only one he could think of that would have even a little understanding of what was happening to Sam. Hopefully she could do what John couldn't do this time—protect his son.

* * *

The night passed almost without a word between John and Dean. Dean heard voices occasionally from the bedroom, but neither he nor John investigated, giving Sam and Jessica their privacy in the only place in their home that hadn't become a part of Dean's and John's home, too. Dean dozed on the couch, waking at first with the slightest creak as John shifted on the armchair where he was slouched. He must have fallen into a deeper sleep at some point because when he woke, someone had draped a blanket over him. He felt guilty as he sat up quickly and glanced back at the closed bedroom door.

"They're still sleeping," John said quietly.

Dean looked at his father, noting the shadows under his drooping eyes. "Did you sleep at all?" he asked.

"Some," John said evasively.

Dean threw back the blanket, got to his feet, and walked into the kitchen. John followed him in and leaned against the counter as Dean filled the coffee maker and flipped it on.

"You think he's okay?" Dean asked.

"I think the fact we haven't seen him yet is positive," John said. "It hopefully means he's still sleeping."

Dean stared out of the window at the bright sky. It looked like he'd slept late. He glanced at the clock display on the stove. It was past ten. He never usually slept so late, even after a long night on a hunt.

"Why did you let me sleep so long?" he asked.

"You needed it," John replied.

Dean scowled. Sam could have needed him and his father had left him to sleep.

"I can't do anything for Sam right now," John said. "But I could do this for you. I would have woken you if anything changed."

Dean nodded his acceptance. He didn't like it, but he understood.

When the coffee was ready, John poured two mugs and carried them through to the living room. Dean folded the blanket and sat down on the armchair.

"What time's Missouri coming?" he asked.

"Her flight gets in at twelve. I'll go pick her up."

Dean could see his reluctance and said, "I'll go." He knew how hard it had been for John to go to Oklahoma instead of coming straight to Sam, and he thought he needed to be there more than Dean. John hadn't seen enough yet to know that Sam was beyond comfort most of the time.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Dean nodded and sipped at his coffee, his attention piquing when he heard Jessica's voice in the bedroom. He didn't try to listen to what she was saying; instead, he set down his mug and went into the kitchen to get her a coffee.

He opened the fridge to get the creamer and his eyes fell on the fruit. He wondered if he would be able to persuade Sam to eat if he made something healthy that he would prefer. He was considering his options still when he heard his father's voice in the living room. He grabbed the creamer and poured some quickly into the mug, stowed it back into the fridge and then carried the mug into the living room.

Jessica was sitting on the couch, slumped against the cushions. She was still dressed in her pajamas and her feet were bare, curled up under her. She looked like she'd barely slept. She took the coffee gratefully and answered Dean's unasked question as he sat down.

"He's still sleeping."

"How was he in the night?" Dean asked.

"Not good," she said. "He had the dreams again. I don't think it was anything new, though. He finally crashed properly and settled in the early hours. He's been quiet since."

"That's something," John said. "Hopefully he'll sleep till Missouri gets here."

"Missouri?" Jessica frowned. "She's your psychic friend in Lawrence, right? Is she coming here?"

John nodded. "I called her last night. She's on her way now. I'm hoping she'll be able to help. She's the only one I know with any experience of anything like Sam's going through."

Jessica nodded thoughtfully. "That's good. God knows I don't know what to do for him. My instincts say get him to a hospital, to people that can help him, but I know that won't work."

"He needs a different kind of help this time," John said gently. "Missouri can hopefully provide that."

"And if she can't?" Jessica asked, fixing searching eyes on John.

"We'll find something else," John promised.

She nodded and sipped at her coffee.

Dean drank his own and tried to find faith in his father's words. What other help was there? If Sam had tuned into the other special children, there might not be a way to stop it. There was no monster to fight, no demon to exorcise or house to cleanse. The only thing they could hope for was that killing the yellow-eyed demon would break the connection, though how long would that take? How much would Sam suffer before it was done?

Jessica set down her coffee and said, "I better change if we've got company coming."

Dean watched her walk back into the bedroom and said quietly, "She's a mess."

"We all are," John said. "But you're right. She needs our help, too. I don't know what we can do for her any more than Sam though."

Dean heard her soft voice through the closed door. He looked down at his mug, only raising his eyes when she appeared in the doorway again, her eyes wide and afraid. "It's happening again!"

John and Dean shot to their feet and Dean rushed after his father into the room. Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, his bare feet planted on the floor as if he was about to stand, though he didn't look capable. His head was in his hands and his fingertips were dug so deeply into his temples that they were white. He was barely making a sound, but Dean thought he could hear a moan building in his throat.

John crouched in front of Sam. "Okay, Son. Breathe through it," he said.

Sam drew a deep breath through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. John encouraged him softly. "That's it. It's going to pass. You can handle it."

Dean waited for it to pass, his eyes on his watch. It took longer than any of the other visions had before he sagged and his eyes opened.

"It's over?" John asked.

Sam nodded and spoke in a wrecked voice "He's got dark hair. Longer than mine. He looks scared. He's sitting in a bedroom, just staring."

"Okay," John said. "We'll add it to the list. You lie down again." He eased an unresisting Sam back onto the bed and covered him with a blanket. "You want some painkillers?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, please" Sam said quietly.

Dean was surprised that Sam was accepting them, and concerned, too. He had resisted everything but Tylenol before. He rushed into the kitchen and filled a glass of juice, thinking the sugar might do him good. He went back into the bedroom and shook a pill out into his hand. Sam pushed himself up onto an elbow and took the pill and glass. He swallowed the pill and washed it down with the juice then flopped back against the pillows as Jessica plucked the glass from his hand.

His eyes quickly closed, though his brow remained creased. "I'm okay," he said. "I just need to sleep."

"Okay, Sammy," Dean said. "You sleep. We'll be close."

"Thanks," he muttered.

John and Dean left the room and went back into the living room. Dean threw himself onto the armchair and raked a hand through his hair. "It's worse now," he stated.

"It is," John agreed. "The drugs should help though. He's still exhausted. Hopefully they'll keep him out till Missouri gets here."

Jessica came out a minute later, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. She looked stressed still. "I think he's sleeping again," she said.

"That's good," John said.

"Yeah, but I think he's still in pain." She sat down on the edge of the couch. "I want to help him, I want to comfort, but even my voice seems to hurt him now."

"He's been through a lot," John said. "I don't think he can bounce back the way he did before forever. We have to hope that sleeping will help, even if he still dreams of them." Seeing his words weren't comforting her, he said. "Missouri will be here, soon."

Jessica nodded but still looked worried. She stared over the couch back toward the bedroom door, her brow creased.

John gave Dean a pointed look and then glanced at Jessica. "You should get going, Dean."

Dean glanced at the clock on the wall. It was still too early to leave, but he thought he understood. If Jessica could believe they were doing something proactive for Sam, it might help her cope, too.

"Yeah," he said, getting to his feet and taking the keys from where he'd left them on the sideboard. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

He froze as he passed through the hall and heard a low moan coming from the bedroom. "Dad," he said softly. "I think Sam needs you."

He heard John come into the hall as he opened the front door and slipped out. He told himself that he was doing what he could to help by getting Missouri, but a small, selfish part of him was relieved that he was going to get a reprieve from seeing his brother suffer.

* * *

Knowing that by bringing Missouri he was helping Sam, even in a small way, Dean drove the journey back from the airport quickly. Missouri, perhaps reading him and seeing his desperation, didn't complain about the speed at all.

She hadn't asked any questions about what was happening, even though she only knew the bare facts from John's call. It wasn't until they were on the Palo Alto streets, almost at Sam's apartment, that she cleared her throat and said, "It's his visions."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. He's having a lot. Too many for him to handle. It started yesterday, and it's getting worse all the time." He swallowed hard, trying to push down his fear.

Missouri patted his arm. "It's okay to be scared, Dean. It's human."

"Can you help him?" Dean asked.

"I think so."

It wasn't the most reassuring response, but it was better than an outright no.

He pulled onto Sam's street and Missouri flinched.

"What?" Dean asked. "What is it?"

She shook her head and bit her lip.

"Is it Sam?"

"Are we nearly there?" she asked in lieu of an answer.

"We're here," Dean said, pulling into Sam's lot and coming to an abrupt stop. Dean threw open the door and then looked back when he realized Missouri wasn't with him. "You okay?" he asked, taking in her pinched and troubled expression.

She nodded and hurried after him. "Let's get inside before we talk."

Dean led her into the building and up the stairs. He unlocked the door and went inside. John came out of the bedroom and his expression brought Dean to an abrupt halt.

"He's worse?" Dean asked.

John nodded. "Much worse."

Dean turned back to Missouri and said pleadingly, "Help him."

She had her hand gripping the doorframe, but at Dean's words, she seemed to brace herself. She walked past them and into the bedroom. Dean followed her in and saw that Jessica was sitting on the bed beside Sam, her hand smoothing down the back of his neck gently. Sam was curled almost into a ball and his head was buried into the pillow. He looked wrecked, agonized, and Dean wondered how he could have deteriorated so much so quickly.

Missouri went straight to his side, paying no attention to Jessica, and pushed his damp hair back from his face. "It's okay," she soothed. "I'm here. I'm going to help you, Sam."

"Missouri?" he rasped.

"Yes. I'm here. You just rest a moment and I'll come back." She looked up at Jessica and said. "Come with me, honey."

"I can't," Jessica said. "It helps when I'm here."

Missouri looked at her sadly. "It really doesn't. Come with me. Let me explain."

Jessica got up from the bed and gave Sam a searching glance before walking out of the room.

"You too," Missouri said, looking from Dean to John.

John and Dean walked out into the living room and took seats. Dean sat beside Jessica on the couch and squeezed her hand. "It'll be okay. She can help."

He heard Missouri speaking softly to Sam and then she came into the room and eased the door closed behind her. Almost as soon as the door clicked shut, Dean heard a low moan. They all looked back at the door, alarmed, and Jessica half rose, but Missouri shook her head. "It's helping him. Sit yourself down and I'll explain."

Jessica sank down and Dean lifted an arm to her. She quickly curled into his side and began to cry softly.

"How is it helping him to be alone?" John asked brusquely.

Missouri perched on the armchair and looked at Jessica. "He doesn't want to hurt you, honey. So he's holding his pain in to protect you, but it's hurting him more. He needs to let it out. Set it free."

Dean nodded, wincing at the noise coming from the bedroom.

"What's happening to him?" John asked. "Can you see what he's seeing? He's not telling us anymore."

"Boy, can I," she said. "He's not thinking right now; he's screaming."

Dean felt Jessica shudder against his side.

"What are these visions doing to him?" Dean asked.

"It's not visions the way you're thinking," Missouri said. "It's vision, almost constant. That's why he's not talking. He can't."

"You mean he's seeing these things all the time?" John asked, horrified.

"Yes, "Missouri said. "He can't make sense of what it is as they flow one into the other almost straight away."

Dean closed his eyes as be absorbed the horror of her words. How was Sam even starting to deal with that? How was he alive even? That kind of pain could put him into shock.

"He's strong," Missouri said.

"We have to help him," Jessica said tearfully.

"We will," Missouri promised. "I will. You need to listen to me though. I need you to stay out here. John will stay with you. No matter what you feel, what you hear, you have to stay away."

"Because I'm hurting him?" Jessica asked.

"Because he's hurting himself to protect you," Missouri corrected. "He loves you so much, honey."

Jessica nodded and Dean squeezed her against him.

"What can I do?" Dean asked.

"You can come with me," Missouri said. "I need you to be strong for Sam. This is going to be hard, and he needs all the support he can get."

"Is it going to work?" John asked nervously.

"I think so," Missouri said. "A lot of it is down to Sam, but I know he's fighting hard already and will fight even harder." She looked from face to face. "He's fighting for you. All of you."

Dean jerked his head at his father and nodded to Jessica. Understanding, John stood and came to sit on Jessica's other side. She shifted away from Dean and closer to John as Dean stood. "Now?" he asked Missouri.

"Now," she agreed.

They walked to the bedroom and when Dean opened the door, Sam's moans cut off.

"It's okay, Sam," Missouri said. "It's just me and Dean. You can let it go." As Sam groaned, she turned to Dean. "Get on his other side. Let him feel you."

In any other instance, Dean would have felt uncomfortable climbing onto the bed beside Sam, but he was just glad of something to do.

"Sam, honey, do you think you can manage to sit up? I need to be able to reach you."

Sam struggled to sit, and Dean helped him to sit with his back against the headboard. He put his arm around Sam's shoulders, and Sam leaned heavily against him.

"That's it." Missouri said approvingly, nodding at Dean.

Sam hissed between his teeth and Missouri winced before she he mastered herself and said, "Okay, honey, you need to listen to my voice and let me guide you. I'm going to touch your head now. It might hurt, but it's going to help."

"Okay," Sam said weakly.

She brought up her hands to Sam's head and put her fingers to his temples. Sam flinched slightly but held himself in place.

"That's good," she said. "Now, Sam, listen to me. We're going to calm you down now, just like we did when I hypnotized you. Can you do that for me?"

"I can try," Sam said quietly.

"That's good. Now, nice deep breath—in through the nose and out through the mouth."

Sam obeyed but it was weak.

"Deeper Sam. Fill your lungs."

Dean saw the effort it was for Sam to do it, and he grappled for a way to help. He picked up Sam's limp hand and held it to his own chest, making sure to breath exaggeratedly. Missouri smiled at him and nodded.

"That's it. Feel Dean's chest move and breathe with him.

It took a while before Sam managed it, but he eventually fell into the same rhythm as Dean.

Missouri let him just breathe a while and then said, "Okay, Sam. You're doing great. Now you need to close the doors."

Sam frowned. "Doors?"

"Each vision is an door in your mind. You have them all wide open at the moment. You need to close them. Don't try all at once. Do them one by one. Wait for the next vision to slow and then try to imagine a door in your mind. That's right. That's looks perfect."

Dean wondered what she was seeing in his mind. He almost wished he could see, too, so he could understand properly what was happening to his brother.

"Here it comes," Missouri said. "We're going to do this together. Can you feel me there?"

"Yes."

"Now. Close it Sam. Don't try to slam it. You're not strong enough yet. But press on it."

Sam's fingers fisted against Dean's chest. Missouri frowned and her lips pressed into a thin line, and then she smiled as Sam relaxed against Dean.

"That's it, Sam," she said. "Perfect. Now, are you ready to try it again?"

"Yes," Sam said, and Dean was pleased to hear that his voice seemed a little stronger.

"Good," Missouri praised.

Dean pressed his hand to Sam's, holding it against his chest, hoping Sam would somehow be able to take some of his strength, too.

Sam stiffened and Missouri closed her eyes. Dean had to fight himself not to hold his breath with the tension. He needed to keep it even and steady for Sam.

Missouri breathed out a sigh of relief. "That's it, honey. Another one gone. It's getting easier, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "Again?"

"Whenever you're ready," Missouri said, obviously pleased.

Dean held his brother against his side pressed his hand to his chest as he tried to will his strength into him.

* * *

It seemed to John that it was forever before the bedroom door opened. The sounds of pain had cut off early on, and all they could hear was the quiet murmur of Missouri's voice, but John was still tense. Jessica didn't talk at all. She just sat curled into John's side. He tried to remember when the last time he had held someone like this. He thought it was Sam when he was very young, when he'd sit under John's arm while he researched hunts. As much as he was glad to have something to do to comfort one of his family, he was relieved when Missouri came out. She looked tired but satisfied.

Jessica quickly scrambled to her feet. "Is he okay?" she asked.

"He will be. He's resting now."

"Can I go in there?"

Missouri nodded. "Yes. The worst part is over, and he knows what to do now when they come."

Jessica darted around the couch and into the bedroom.

"Is he really okay?" John asked.

"He's exhausted, and he's probably going to have a headache for a while, but yes. Come and see for yourself."

John walked into the bedroom, Missouri following, and stopped at the end of the bed. Sam was sitting with his back against the headboard and his head resting on Dean's shoulder. His breaths were the easy sighs of sleep. Dean had his arm around him and his other hand holding Sam's to his chest. His eyes were closed, and he looked almost as tired as Missouri.

Jessica was sitting on the other side of the bed, her hand on Sam's cheek.

"Dean?" John said gently.

Dean's eyes opened and he looked at John with a smile. "He did it," he said proudly. He looked across his sleeping brother at Jessica and said, "Here. Come lay with him."

He held Sam as he crept out from under him and eased him down on the bed so he was lying against the pillows then stood.

Jessica walked quickly around the bed and crawled in beside Sam. She tucked her head under his chin and nestled in close to his chest. Even in sleep, Sam's arm came up to hold her against him.

John crept out of the room and waited for Missouri and Dean to come out before he asked. "What exactly did you do?"

"I helped him close his mind," she said. "I've never seen anyone like Sam before; he's so powerful. I've taught him to protect himself from the visions when they come. He'll have more, but they won't overwhelm him like this again."

"Isn't there a way we can stop it altogether?" John asked.

"I'm sorry," Missouri said, "but I don't think that's possible. Sam's visions are as much a part of him as his heart or mind. They will always be a part of him, but he can control them now."

"He's going to hurt like that for the rest of his life?" John asked.

"Not like that, no. I think the visions will always hurt a little, that's the nature of them, but Sam can handle it. I'd like to stay a little longer. Work with him. I think with practice he can better control of them. Maybe explore them even."

"Make them stronger, you mean?" Dean asked. "Is that a good idea?"

"It's up to him," Missouri said. "But I think the more he sees, the better it will be."

"How?" Dean asked.

Missouri looked at John. "You're going to find these people, aren't you? The other special ones."

John nodded slowly. He planned to try at least.

"Then you're going to need all the help you can get," she said. "Sam's the best hope you have."

"I have to take him with me?" John asked, frowning.

"Yes," she said a little sadly. "This isn't just about protecting him anymore. This is about arming him."

"From what?" Dean asked. "Did you see something in his mind?"

"Just an image," Missouri said.

"What was it?" John asked.

Missouri frowned. "An old bell on a plinth. There was an oak tree cast into the metal."

* * *

 **So… Sam's on the track to protecting himself from the visions, and we have mention of an old bell with an oak tree. I think we all know what that means.**

 **The scene with Sam blocking the visions had a whole different—and very creepy—vibe before. I'm hoping that between Gredelina1 and me it's been removed. If not, I apologize.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	21. Chapter 21

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for being the best beta out there and Gredelina1 for being my cheerleader. Thank you all for reading and reviewing xxx**

* * *

 ** _Chapter Twenty-One_**

Despite the sun beating down on him, the itchiness of his fed suit, and the crowd of strangers surrounding him, Dean was happy. Sam and Jessica were graduating and he and John were there to witness it.

A year ago, this would have seemed impossible. Even a week ago, when Sam was recovering from the onslaught of visions, it had felt like they would never have this moment with him. How could Sam be ready in time after what he'd been through and while he was sleeping long hours of the day? But he had rallied. He and Missouri had worked tirelessly to improve his control, and now he had done it. He could close the doors in his mind at will.

They applauded politely as another graduate crossed the stage and took his diploma, and Dean waited impatiently as they moved from Harrison to Heyward, eager to see Sam's moment.

"Matthew Isaacs."

John turned confused eyes onto Dean. "They missed Sam."

Dean was confused, too, and then an idea occurred to him. Was it possible Sam had done it?

"Maybe they do it by major," he said quietly. "Just wait."

John nodded but he still looked troubled.

When Jessica's name was called, Dean applauded so hard he almost missed John's nudge. "What?" he asked.

"They still haven't done Sam," he hissed. "Do you think there's something wrong?"

"I'm sure it's fine, Dad."

As they moved from Wallis to Whitehouse, Dean's heart began to race. He hoped desperately he was right. He wanted this for all of them, but especially for John.

"Sam Winchester."

All dignity of the moment forgotten, Dean leapt to his feet, his hands slamming together so hard they stung. He watched Sam walk across the stage in his black robe and red sash, and he felt a surge of pride. He thought he saw Sam turn to the stands, and he imagined he was looking for them. He sank back into his seat, smiling widely and proudly, and turned to his father to share the moment.

John looked stunned and his eyes were wet. He looked to Dean and asked, as if uncertain of what he had heard, "Winchester?"

Dean grinned. "It is his name after all."

John nodded quickly and wiped at his face. "Yes! It's his name."

Dean turned back to the stage to see the last of the graduates make the pass across the stage and then listened to the final address from the dean then watched the graduates march out. His own eyes prickling, Dean joined the people around them as they made for the steps to exit. John was still seated, looking a little stunned, and Dean tugged on his arm.

"Come on. Let's find Sam and Jess."

John got up and they followed the throng of people making their way out of the stadium. Dean glanced back over his shoulder and saw his father had calmed and was looking composed again. Dean led him outside to the place where Sam had told them he would be waiting.

He saw Sam and Jessica standing under the tree being greeted by a man and woman that Dean thought had to be Jessica's parents. The resemblance between Jessica and her mother was strong. As they approached, Dean saw Jessica's mom release Jessica and hug Sam. He smiled as she patted his cheek and said something that made him nod and put an arm around Jessica's shoulders. His eyes found John and Dean and grinned. He released Jessica and came to greet them, embracing John and then Dean.

"Well done, man," Dean said. "You did good." He was speaking both about his academic achievement and his personal ones. With all the stress and drama of the last year, he had gotten through his last year of college, and now he had great things ahead of him.

"Sam Winchester?" John asked as if still unsure.

"It's my name, right?" he asked.

"It is," John said with feeling, eyes beginning to fill up again.

"Come meet Jess' parents," he said excitedly.

They followed him over to the small group and they turned to them with interest.

"Elizabeth, Michael, this is my dad, John, and my brother Dean." There was a note of pride in his happy voice.

Michael held out a hand to John and they shook. "It's good to finally meet you," he said. "Jess has told us so much about you both."

Dean wondered what story Jessica had given her parents to explain their arrival in Sam's life. They had to have at least heard of James if not met him. They didn't mention it though.

He shook Michael's offered hand and greeted Elizabeth.

"Haven't they done well?" Elizabeth said, wrapping an arm around her daughter's shoulders.

"Incredibly well," John said. "We're very proud of them both."

Sam ducked his head, embarrassed, and Jessica beamed.

"And in only two months they will be married," Michael said. "So much is happening."

"I wonder though," Elizabeth said, looking at John. "What do you think about this road trip?"

"We've talked about this already, Mom," Jessica said patiently. "We'll come to do whatever we need for the wedding, but we're going to explore the country, too."

"I think it'll be good for them, "John said. "We're a family that travels a lot—Dean and I for work—and there's many things in America for them to see."

"That's what I say," Michael said, nodding. "They won't have time for a honeymoon after the wedding, so they should live as free as they can while they can."

Elizabeth sighed. "I suppose so. You _will_ come for wedding preparation though," she commanded. "We still haven't had you fitted for your suit, Sam."

Jessica nudged Sam with her elbow and nodded pointedly. "Told you."

"What did you tell him?" Elizabeth asked suspiciously.

"Just that he needed to be fitted," Jessica said innocently.

Dean was sure there was more of a story there. He would ask Sam when they were alone.

"You will both need to come, too," Elizabeth said. "We need to get you fitted."

John looked startled and Dean's eyes widened. "We do?"

Jessica turned to glare at her mother and hissed, "Sam hadn't quite gotten to that part yet, Mom."

Elizabeth looked mortified. She clapped her hand to her mouth and said, "Oh, I'm sorry."

Dean turned confused eyes on Sam who looked embarrassed as he tugged off his graduation cap. "Well, now's as good a time as any. I wondered if you'd both stand with me at the wedding." His cheeks heated. "There's no rule saying I can't have two best men."

Dean's mouth dropped open and he had to fight to control himself enough to snap it shut again.

"Really?" John asked, obviously pleased.

Sam nodded. "Really."

"I would be honored," John said.

"Dean?" Sam asked worriedly.

Dean nodded quickly. "Y-yeah. Absolutely."

Sam grinned. "Awesome."

Elizabeth clapped her hands. "That's decided then. Now, stand together gentlemen. I need a picture."

Dean and John moved to stand on either side of Sam and they brought their arms up around his shoulders. Elizabeth took the picture and nodded. "That's perfect."

She turned the camera so they could see the picture on the small screen. Dean looked at his own face, smiling widely as he stood proudly with his brother and father. The day had felt surreal, being among civilians and watching kids with normal lives take the next step, but this, being with his brother and dad, felt right. They had a lot to do, a war to fight and lives to protect, but soon there would be a perfect day in which they would watch Sam and Jessica take another step together, and they would have an important part to play then, too.

* * *

Sam looked around the bedroom for anything he may have missed. It looked neater than usual; the possessions they usually had dotted around were all put away or packed. He shouldered his bag, picked up Jessica's and walked into the living room. It was neater in there, too. There were no textbooks stacked on the sideboard. Their space was bare and ready for the new school year's texts.

Jessica came out of the kitchen. "The fridge is empty of pretty much everything but pickles," she said.

"That's good," Sam said. "You sure you've got everything you need packed?"

"Positive. You ready?"

Sam looked around the room one last time and nodded. "Yeah."

They walked out of the apartment and Jessica locked the door, engaging the deadbolt they didn't usually worry about. They went down the stairs and outside to the parking lot.

Sam felt nervous now that it was time to leave, despite the fact they had to go north to Jessica's parents first and then they faced at least a two-day drive until they reached Andy and the real work began.

They were setting out with Dean and John to track the special children Sam had seen in his torrent of visions. The plan that John had come up with was to find them and reach out to them, to explain what was happening to them and try to help. They wanted to get to as many as they could and hopefully help, by forewarning them, to protect them from Max's fate. The theory was that if these people understood what was happening to them, they would be less likely to be corrupted by their abilities. They wanted to protect them from the demons, too. Jessica had been targeted twice to hurt Sam, Rick had been killed, and they didn't want to lose any more people to the demon than they already had. If they could teach them about holy water and salt, devil's traps and exorcisms, they might be able to save themselves.

John had his friend Ash searching for people, too, but Sam's visions were the crux of the plan. He needed to explore them to find clues to each of their locations. He could control them pretty well now. He knew when they were coming, it was a kind of pressure in his head, but he could manage them, opening each door at will and closing it when they were too much. It still hurt, Missouri said it always would, but it wasn't so bad when they weren't flooding him the way they had before.

The sleek black Impala pulled up and Dean got out. "You guys ready?"

"Yep," Jessica said cheerfully. She got into the back seat and Sam moved around to the trunk to stow their bags inside.

"You okay?" Dean asked quietly.

"Yeah," Sam said. "Just a little nervous."

"You'll be fine. We all will. Think how I feel."

Sam frowned. "You're nervous, too?" He would have thought this would be the least of Dean's fears after having spent most of his life hunting monsters.

"I've never been fitted for a suit before, man," Dean said. "I don't think I've ever done something so normal in my life."

Sam laughed. "You can handle it. I'll take care of you."

Dean clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm counting on it."

* * *

It was strange to see the streets from his vision of Andy in person—like the strongest déjà vu. The elaborately decorated van was parked outside the café he'd seen before when they pulled up, but when Dean knocked hard on the rear door, there was no sign of movement inside.

"It's okay," John said. "We'll find him."

"Should I look…?" Sam let the question trail into the air.

"No," John said. "There's no need for you to push yourself unless it becomes necessary. He peered through the café window and shook his head. "He's not in there. We'll try the bar."

They followed him up the street to a building with a lettered sign on the door declaring it JC's Tavern. John pushed open the door and they filed in after him.

"Now, remember," John said quietly. "He might use his compulsion on you. There's no fighting it, so let's try not to give him cause to, I don't want to have to swing back to California again to pick one of you up if he sends you home."

Sam nodded and squeezed Jessica's hand. He looked around and saw the man from his vision sitting at the bar with a beer in his hand. He didn't seem to have noticed their arrival.

"Sam, come with me," John said. "You two hang back. We don't want to overwhelm him, give him a reason to do his thing to us.

Sam followed his father across to the bar and came to a stop a little behind him as John cleared his throat.

Andy turned to him, his eyebrows rising. "Oh. You're back."

"Hello, Andy," John said.

Andy grinned. "How did it go with your son?"

"It went well," John said, gesturing to Sam. "This is Sam."

Andy looked a little amused. "So, you're the one with psychic visions."

"And you're the one with mind control," Sam said holding out a hand. "Nice to meet you."

Andy looked at his hand as if it was a viper. "How did you…?"

"Know?" Sam asked, dropping his hand. "Partly because you compelled my dad to travel across the country to help me, and partly because I saw you."

"Get out of here!" Andy said, his voice holding resonance that hadn't been there before.

"Okay," John said, turning and walked toward the door.

Dean caught his arm as he made to pass and held him in place, speaking urgently. John shook his head and pulled free. He opened the door and left the bar. Dean shrugged helplessly and went after him. Jessica stayed at the table, watching Sam with a worried expression.

Hoping John would only be compelled to get outside and not go further, Sam turned back to Andy. "Neat trick."

"Go away!" Andy said, the same force behind the words.

Sam felt a pressure in his mind, but no need to obey. "I don't think it's going to work on me," he said mildly. "Sorry."

"Why not?" Andy asked. "What are you?"

"I'm like you," Sam said. "I have powers, too. Like my dad told you, I have visions. I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to talk, to explain. If you still want me to go when I'm done, I will. But you need listen so you can protect yourself."

"Protect myself from what?"

"What's coming for us."

Andy looked startled but he nodded. "Okay. Come over here." He walked to a table in a dim corner and sat down.

Sam felt Jessica's eyes on him as he sat with Andy and he knew she was worried. "Can my fiancée come?" he asked. "She can explain, too."

Andy glanced back at her. "Sure. Fine."

Sam gestured her over and she hurried to him, pulling a chair close and sitting beside Sam.

Andy looked from Jessica's face to the ring on her finger and said, "So, you're getting married? Mazel tov."

"Thanks," Jessica said, her smile not entirely able to hide her nerves.

"Do you have visions, too?"

"No. Nothing like that," Jessica said. "I'm lucky."

"Lucky?" Andy frowned. "How do you work that out? This stuff is awesome."

"You didn't tell him?" Jessica asked.

"I didn't get there yet," Sam said. "See, I have these visions, but they hurt me. Like a migraine from hell. Recently, I got kinda blasted with a bunch at once, and it was pretty brutal."

"Well that sucks," Andy said. "Getting my power was the best thing that ever happened to me. I had headaches at first, but they soon went and I was just left with this awesome ability." He grinned. "You have any idea how many parking tickets I've talked my way out of like this? And the cops are so tolerant now I could smoke up in their parking lot and they wouldn't give a damn."

"Must be nice," Sam said.

"It's great," Andy said.

"So, apart from dodging parking tickets and giving yourself the freedom to get stoned in public, what else can you do?" Sam asked.

"Do you mean do I abuse it?" Andy asked. "Well, yeah. I don't have stellar finances, but I havn't been tackled by a debt collector in months. We have a nice chat and I send them on their way."

"Do you hurt people?" Jessica asked bluntly.

"God, no," Andy said. "Never. I use it to help even. Your dad was a mess when he was here; he wanted to get back to you more than anything, but for some reason he was determined to stay here. So I helped him do what he wanted."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. He believed him. Andy didn't seem dangerous. In fact, Sam kind of liked him. He had helped John, and even though Sam hadn't wanted that at the time, it had ultimately worked out.

"So, you said you wanted to protect me from what's 'coming'," Andy said. "What's that about?"

Sam tried to come up with a way to explain. "There's this… fight coming. We are a part of it, which means people we love are in danger. Jessica has been targeted twice now, and one of our friends was killed because of it."

Andy looked pale. "You're not kidding, are you?"

"I wish I was," Sam said seriously.

Jessica elbowed him and Sam looked up to see Dean approaching. His hands raised in front of him.

"This is my brother Dean," Sam said. "Don't whammy him, okay?"

Andy nodded and Dean came over. "Dad's stuck halfway down the street," he said, turning to Andy. "Neat trick, by the way. Ash emailed, though, and he's got something." He held his phone out.

Sam took it and read down the email on the screen, his eyes widening. "Andy, are you adopted?" he asked carefully.

"Yeah," Andy said. "When I was a baby. My dad raised me alone though. My mom died when I was small."

"Six months old, right?" Dean said. "In your nursery."

Andy looked stunned. "How did you know that?"

"Seems to be a theme of our story," Sam said. "Same thing happened to our mom, too."

"Keep reading, Sam," Dean instructed.

Sam read on and his eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Did you know you had a twin, too?" Sam asked.

Andy paled. "What? No. I can't have."

"You can," Dean said. "We have a genius on our team and he dug this up. There's a picture."

Sam scrolled down and felt his heart race in his chest. He knew that face. "He's one of us! I _saw_ him." Sam turned the phone to Andy. "This is your brother."

Andy took the phone and appraised the picture. "That's Weber."

"No," Dean said. "His name is Ansem Weems."

"Never mind that," Sam said. "You know him, Andy?"

"Yeah," Andy said weakly. "He moved to town a few months ago. He works at Simone's. We went to see Aerosmith together a couple weeks ago."

"Must have been nice to bond," Dean said and Sam scowled at him.

"He's seriously my brother?" Andy asked.

"Your twin," Sam said. "And he's got powers, too. Has he ever shown any evidence of them?"

Andy shook his head. "No. He's just a normal guy. He busses tables for Tracy."

"We need to talk to him," Dean said. "Find out what he's got. Help set him up, too."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Andy, we could do with your help for this. You don't have to tell him who you are, but you can help convince him we're on the level."

"I'm not completely sure you are yet," Andy said. "But, yeah, I'll come."

"And do you want him to know who you are?" Sam asked.

Andy shrugged. "Feels like I have to. You find out you have a long-lost brother, you need to let him know, right?"

Dean nodded solemnly. "You do."

Sam wondered if Dean was thinking the same as him—remembering a bitter confrontation in a hospital room in California. He hoped it went better for Andy and Ansem than it had for them.

They left the bar and walked along the street to where John was standing, leaning against a sports equipment store with an irritated look. He pushed away from the wall as they approached.

"Sorry," Andy said. "Didn't mean to stick you out here."

"Yes, you did," John disagreed. "But it's okay. As long as you're on board now."

"Don't know about that yet, but I'm coming to meet my twin properly. Does that count?"

"It'll do," John said.

Sam held Jessica's hand as they walked along the street, and stopped outside the door of the café. "How do you want to do this, Andy?" he asked. "Do you want to be alone?"

Andy considered. "I think maybe a few less of us. It's going to be enough for him to hear it, let alone deal with an audience, too. Sam, you'll come with me?"

Sam nodded. He kissed Jessica's cheek and then followed Andy into the café. The woman he had seen in his vision was wiping a cloth over the counter. She smiled at Andy and said, "Hey. What can I get you?"

"Is Weber around?" Andy asked. "We need to talk to him."

She looked a little bemused. "Sure. He's in the back. Sit yourself down and I'll let him know you're here."

They sat down at a table by the window. Sam looked out and saw Jessica and Dean talking while John stared in at them.

Sam smiled slightly and looked up as Weber came out of a swinging door and to their table.

"Andy!" he said happily "How are you doing, man?"

"Good," Andy said. "Can you sit for a minute? We need to talk."

Weber frowned but took the seat between Andy and Sam. "What's up?"

Andy looked at Sam nervously and said, "I, uh, just found something out, and it's kinda your story, too, so I thought I needed to tell you." He drew a breath and looked pleadingly at Sam. "Help?"

Sam gave him a reassuring look and asked, "Weber, when's your birthday?"

"April fourteenth," he said. "Why?"

"That's my birthday, too," Andy said.

"Really? Crazy. What are the odds?"

"Pretty good when you're twins," Andy said quietly.

Weber laughed "That's good, Andy. I mean… Wait. You're serious?"

Andy nodded. "You're adopted, right?"

"Yeah. When I was a baby."

"Did your adopted mom die, too?" Sam asked.

"No, she's living in Tulsa with my dad. Why?"

Sam frowned. He was the first that didn't fit the pattern. Did that mean he wasn't one of them? Why would Sam have seen him though? It could have been the connection to Andy, he supposed, but he didn't think so. He reached for the door in his mind behind which Weber had been seen and eased it open. He winced but managed it for a moment. He was still there, clear as any of the others. And he wasn't with Andy at the time. He was alone in a living room that had the impersonal look of a hotel. He closed the door again with a spike of pain and got his bearings again.

Andy was frowning at him and when he glanced out of the window, he saw John's concerned look. He raised a hand to him, indicating he was okay, and said. "I'm fine."

"Was it a vision?" Andy asked.

"A what?" Weber asked.

"I have psychic visions," Sam explained.

"Way to ease him into it, Sam," Andy said.

Sam shrugged apologetically and looked at Weber. "This is going to sound crazy, okay, but I need you to hear me out. I do have psychic visions, and Andy has powers, too."

He surveyed Weber's reaction, and wasn't wholly surprised to see he didn't look that shocked. His eyes were fixed on Andy and he was staring at him as if analyzing him.

"What can you do?" Sam asked shrewdly.

Weber frowned. "I'm not sure I can do anything. Weird things happen sometimes. I can kinda make things happen."

Andy looked stunned but Sam nodded.

"Make things happen like move things with your mind?" he asked.

"No, but I can get what I want."

Andy gasped. "Like tell people to do what you want?"

Weber shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I got myself a kickass room at The Hampton, and they gave me special rates but… I don't know."

"You got this job," Andy remembered. "Tracy wasn't even hiring."

"Yeah. I came in and told her I needed a job on the off-chance, and she said there was something for me."

"Has there been more like that?" Sam asked.

"A few things. Little stuff. Me and Andy got backstage at Aerosmith that one time."

Andy raised his hand. "Yep, that'd be me."

"You saying I have psychic powers _and_ a twin?" Weber asked. "That's so cool."

Andy smiled shyly. "Yeah, it's pretty awesome. Better than Sam's anyway."

"You have visions," Weber asked. "What's that like?"

"Painful," Sam said. "It's not all awesome for me. I see stuff but it's not good stuff. I used to see people getting hurt, dying, but it's developed recently. I saw you and Andy, and a bunch of others. We think they're all people like us, with abilities. We're trying to find you all so we can help."

"Help with what?" Weber asked. "No offence, but I'm pretty much set as I am."

"That's what I said," Andy agreed. "But Sam says there's a fight coming, too."

Weber looked a little uncomfortable. "What do you mean fight?"

Sam drew a breath. "You mind if my family come in? They can help me explain."

Weber shrugged. "Whatever you need."

Sam caught John's eye through the window and gestured them in. With a look of relief, John said something to Dean and Jessica and they filed in.

Sam moved his chair around the table to make room and they pulled chairs around and sat. Sam made introductions and then explained, "Weber is like Andy. He can compel people, too. He didn't have the fire though. His mom is still alive."

"That breaks pattern," John said.

"Yeah," Sam said. "We might need to rethink a little."

"So, this fight?" Andy prompted.

John nodded. "What do you know about demons?"

"You mean like in the bible?" Weber asked.

John nodded. "They're real. They're not exactly like what you've read, but they are dangerous. They are monsters that can possess a human body and use it to hurt people. They are murderous—pretty much evil in the purest form." He nodded to Jessica. "They've tried to kill her twice now."

"How are you alive then?" Weber asked. "If they're as evil as you say, what stopped them?"

"I saw it coming," Sam said. "We put protections in place and they were exorcised—cast out of the bodies they'd taken and sent back to Hell."

"Hell is real, too?" Weber asked weakly.

"Very real," Dean said. "But we've protected Jess, and we can teach you how to do the same for yourselves."

"Why do we need protecting?" Andy asked. "What do the demons want from us?"

"We're not certain," John said carefully. "You and the people like you are somehow important to them. There is a fight coming."

"We're like soldiers," Weber asked.

"We're not entirely sure," John said. "You have to be prepared though. They came for Jess to get to Sam, so you need to do what you can to protect yourselves and the people who are important to you."

Weber buried his face in his hands. "This can't be real." He sounded scared.

"It is," Dean said. "I know this is a lot to handle. We've all been where you are. But we dealt. Now we're doing what we can to help you and the others."

"How many others are there?" Andy asked.

"At least ten," Sam said. "There might be more. We're looking for them now. You're the first."

"And what are you going to do for us?" Weber asked, raising his head and looking imploringly at John. "If they're as dangerous as you say, what's to stop them just wiping us out?"

"They need you for something," Dean said. "If you come with us, we'll show you some protections you can use. And if something happens, you call us and someone will come. There's a lot of us, people that know about this stuff, and they will help you. We're going to do everything we can to help you."

Andy put his hand on Weber's shoulder. He looked afraid, too, but he was obviously trying to push it down so he could help his newfound brother. "They're going to help us," he said quietly. "At least we're forewarned.

"Yeah," Weber said quietly. "But what about this fight? Who's going to help us then?"

"We'll help each other," Andy said bracingly. "There's more of us, they say, so if we stick together, we'll be okay."

* * *

Sam was lying on the bed with Jessica against his side, her cheek resting on his chest. She traced a finger over his stomach. "You okay, baby?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

She pushed herself up onto an elbow. "You want to try that again?"

Sam smiled. He should have known better than to lie to her.

"I feel better than I did before," he clarified. "They have all the tools we do for protection. They're armed."

They had spent the afternoon teaching Andy and Weber as much about demons as they could. They were both scared but absorbed the information quickly. Weber seemed especially motivated. He had practiced the exorcism so many times Sam thought he would be able to recite it without the cheat sheet. Andy was better at mastering the devil's trap. They had gone into the woods and practiced them drawing them into the ground. If any demon strayed there, they would find themselves surrounded by traps. Andy floated the theory that hikers were going to start avoiding the area to keep themselves safe from Satanists.

The biggest problem was persuading Andy to give up his van and stay somewhere he could protect easier. Eventually, it was Weber that had convinced him of the need, sharing his fear for him, and Andy was now established in the room beside his brother's at The Hampton.

Sam thought it was going to be easier for them to deal than anyone else, as they had each other to lean on. It wasn't exactly the best way to learn you had a brother, but Sam knew there were worse ways. They both seemed to want to make something of it.

"And what about how you feel about yourself?" Jessica asked.

"It's better to be doing something. I think if we'd stayed home and left Dean and John to find these people, it would be impossible to relax. Don't get me wrong, I'm scared of what's coming, but I feel like we're fighting it already with what we're doing. None of us are going to lie down and let it happen. We're going to do what we can."

"And we're going to win," Jessica said doggedly.

Sam kissed her chastely. "Yes, we are."

She curled up against him again.

He would feel better if he could _see_ what was coming, but he would do what he could without that knowledge.

Andy and Weber, all the others they'd not yet found, they all would do what they could.

* * *

 **So… Some light stuff to start with and then the first step of the mission. It was great to write the graduation scene. I wanted Sam to claim his real name again straight away, but I knew it needed to have due emphasis given to it, so this felt like the right time for John and Dean to find out.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	22. Chapter 22

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing for me. Your little changes make all the difference. Thank you also Gredelina1 for all your help and support.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Twenty-Two**_

The sleek black car pulled into the parking lot of the Stillwater Inn and the doors opened and closed with creaks as four people climbed out.

"No, Dean," the tallest man said, evidently continuing an argument that was started in the car. "We're not having pizza again."

The woman smiled at the older man. "John, your sons are fighting again."

"C'mon, Jess," Dean said. "You know you want it, too. Cheese, pepperoni, _onions_ …"

"Sam's got a point," John said. "There's been a lot of pizza lately. We'll have something decent today."

Sam smiled smugly at his brother.

"Fine," Dean huffed. "What culinary masterpiece are you going to cook up for us tonight, Sam?"

Sam looked amused. "Since this room comes equipped with a coffee maker and microwave, I'm thinking nothing. There's that Italian place down the street though. We can try that."

Dean laughed. "You do know pizza is Italian, right?"

"Then you will both be happy," John said.

"I'm going in," Jess said, turning and making for the room behind them.

"I'll come," John said. "These two are giving me a headache."

"You're not the only one," she said.

Dean and Sam went to the trunk and began pulling out bags. There was no sign of the argument between them as they laughed together.

A woman ran around the side of the wall ringing the motel and shouted, "Winchester!"

They all turned and their expressions became horrorstruck as they saw the pistol held in the hands of the newcomer. John pushed Jess behind him, her back pressed against the closed door, and his face paled. Dean's hand came to Sam's chest and gripped his shirt.

Sam blanched, his fear obvious, but there was recognition in his face, too. "Linda?" he breathed.

"How do you know my name?" the woman asked, swinging the gun so that it pointed at Sam's chest.

Sam swallowed hard. "I came here to help you. We all did." He raised his hands slowly in a gesture of supplication. "Lower the gun and I can explain."

Linda shook her head jerkily. "I can't. I have to do this."

"Please," Sam begged. "You don't need a gun. I know what's happening to you and I can help."

"You can't help me," she said desperately. "I have to do it. I have to kill him." She fixed her gaze on Dean.

Sam's eyes darted to his brother, panicked.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean said carefully, his fingers tightening in Sam's shirt.

Behind John, Jess whimpered. John looked sick, torn between protecting Jess and his sons.

Sam drew a breath and said. "You don't have to hurt anyone. Whatever's happening to you, we can stop it."

"You can't!" Linda shouted. "I have to do it!"

"Please," Sam said again. "Let me help you."

A tear slid down Linda's cheek and the gun dropped an inch. For a moment, it looked as though Sam had reached her. Sam seemed to think so, too, as he made half a step forward, Dean's hold on his shirt moving with him, his hands still raised.

"I'm sorry," Linda said.

It happened fast; she corrected her aim at Dean and then her finger squeezed the trigger as Sam threw himself sideways. There was a scream and Dean cried out inarticulately as the bullet punctured Sam's chest.

He hit the floor with a meaty thump and blood blossomed on his shirt, quickly soaking through the blue and turning it red. Jess was still screaming as she and John ran forward. Dean was on his knees beside his brother, his shaking hands tearing the shirt away and grappling for the source of the blood. "Sam, oh God, Sammy!" he whispered.

Jess dropped down beside him and put her hand on Sam's cheek. "Baby!" she said through her tears. "Look at me."

Sam's eyes opened and roved the faces around him, coming to rest on Jess. He licked his lips. "I'm sorry, Jess," he whispered.

"No!" she said angrily. "Don't you dare give up!"

"Hold on, Sammy," John was saying. "You're going to be okay." His hands joined Dean's on Sam's chest and he barked, "Your shirt, Dean!"

Dean ripped off his shirt and pushed it at his father. "Here!" His gaze fixed on Sam, "Sammy, please hang on!"

Sam coughed and blood dripped down his chin. Dean supported his head as Sam tried to clear his throat.

Sam's gaze moved to his brother and his bloody lips half curved into a smile as he brought up a shuddering hand and patted Dean's chest where a silver medallion hung. "It was my turn," he said weakly.

"No!" Dean growled. " _Hold on_!"

Sam's eyes moved to John and then back to Jess whose tears were dripping down onto him. He coughed weakly and then drew in a gurgling breath. It was exhaled as a sigh and then his eyes became glazed and unseeing.

"Sam!" John said harshly, his hands moving from Sam's chest to his face, smearing it with his own blood. "Sam, look at me!"

Jess screamed again, an expression of agony that rent the air. John was still barking orders at his son to wake, and Dean stared down at Sam with a look of devastation. "Sam?" he said weakly. "Sammy?"

No one noticed the sound of a second gunshot as Linda put a bullet into her brain, and in Peoria, Illinois, a woman jerked awake and bolted upright, her heart racing in her chest and her breaths coming in gasps.

"Ava?" a man asked, rolling over and opening drowsy eyes. "What is it?"

"Just a nightmare," she said. "Go back to sleep."

His eyes closed quickly, and Ava crept out of the bed and went into the kitchen to where her laptop sat on the table. She flipped it open and quickly booted it up then opened a search engine. She typed in the motel name, wondering why she was even doing it. It was just a dream, another nightmare, but Jess' screams still echoed in her ears. She had to check. She had to be sure.

The results filled the screen and she saw a picture of the motel from her dream beside an Oklahoma address. Her heart picked up pace again as she tried to convince herself to go back to bed and forget it. But there was no reason for her to have ever seen this motel in her life. She'd never even been to Oklahoma before.

She closed her eyes and Sam's face, devoid of any sign of life, filled her mind.

She had to check.

* * *

Sam fought a grimace as he chewed his wilted salad. Dean and Jessica were happily munching their monster-sized supreme pizza and John stared distractedly out of the window as he ate his more modestly sized margherita. Dean had chosen the take-out and Sam hadn't been able to persuade him out of it. He made a promise to himself that he was going to pick dinner next time.

He never thought he would miss his own kitchen so much. It wasn't so bad for breakfast, as Dean had a passion for all breakfast foods and could always be steered towards a diner where Sam could usually find something he wanted to eat. Jessica seemed to be enjoying every moment of the road trip dining though. She never normally managed to get access to so much junk food with Sam cooking for them.

He forced himself on with the limp leaves though, knowing he needed to eat something, until all that was left was a few scraps. He pushed away the container and answered Dean's question of whether it was good with a smile. "It was great."

John caught his eye and cocked a brow. Sam shook his head slightly and John nodded understandingly.

Eventually, John pushed away his pizza box and wiped his hands on a napkin. He picked up his journal from the bedside table and flipped through the pages to the notes on the special children. "This one's Linda, right?" he asked.

"Yeah. Pyrokinetic. I've seen her making candles blaze up. She's one of the ones that is really struggling. She looks terrible when I see her. I know she's somewhere here in town because I can see the intersection outside her house."

John checked his journal. "Beckingham and Fourth."

Sam nodded. "It's a small apartment. I think there are other people living there. She's usually alone in a bedroom though."

"We'll have Ash see if he can get an exact address," John said, checking his watch. "He shouldn't be too loaded to help yet. I'll give him a call." He took his phone from his pocket and moved away from the table where Dean and Jessica were arguing about divvying up the last slice.

Sam heard him greet Ellen and then ask to speak to Ash. Sam watched as Dean pulled out a penknife and began to cut the slice into two.

"Hang on, Ash," John said, covering the phone with a hand. "Dean, that's silver. It's for shapeshifters, not pizza."

Jessica's face fell. "You've killed people with that knife?"

Dean shrugged. "Only monsters."

"That's even worse!" Jessica said. "That's had monster guts on it!"

Dean laughed. "Guess that means the rest is mine." He picked up the slice, folded it, and took a satisfied bite. "Mmm, it's good."

Sam put his arm around Jessica's shoulders and said, "Don't worry. We'll find a way to get him back."

"Good luck with that," Dean said happily. "I have no standards."

Jessica smirked. "I've noticed."

There was a knock on the door and Sam got to his feet to answer. He opened it and gasped as he saw a familiar face. Though she looked stressed when in his vision she'd been happily perusing wedding magazines, there was no mistaking her. She was one of the special children.

She looked up at him and sighed. "Oh, thank God. You're still alive."

Sam stepped back, distancing himself from the words as shock rolled over him, and she brushed past him.

"I'll call you back," John said vaguely, dropping the phone down on the bed as Dean lurched to his feet.

Jessica came to Sam's side and put her hand on his chest. Sam held her to him, still trying to wrap his mind around this woman's appearance and what she had said.

"What do you mean he's still alive?" Dean asked angrily.

"I mean I was in time," she said. "Okay, this is going to sound crazy, I'm aware of that, but I have to say it or I'm never going to sleep right again, and I drove all day, so yeah. I…" She huffed. "This is hard."

Sam thought he understood. "What did you see?" he asked.

She frowned. "How do you know I saw something?"

"Do you greet everyone you meet like that?" Dean asked harshly.

Sam help up a hand to him. "Look… Uh…"

"Ava," she supplied.

"Ava, I'm Sam, this is Jess–"

"And that's Dean and John," she finished for him. "I _know_. How do you know about me though?"

"I'm the same," Sam said. "I have visions, too."

"Dreams, you mean?" Ava asked.

"You don't have them when you're awake, too?" Sam asked.

"No!"

"Wait," Dean said quietly.

John stepped forward. "You had a dream of Sam?"

"Yes," she said emphatically.

"Dying?" Jessica asked in a strained voice. Sam held her a little tighter.

"Yes! I saw _you_ jumping in front of _him_ ," she gestured between Sam and Dean, "and getting shot!"

Dean turned accusing eyes on Sam. "You did _what?_ "

"I haven't done anything yet," Sam said defensively.

"You will," Ava said confidently. She breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay. This should be easier, since you're all crazy already. Can I sit?"

"Go ahead," Sam said.

She sank down onto Sam's vacated chair and rubbed at her temples.

"Headache?" Sam asked.

"You get them too?" she asked.

"You have no idea," Dean muttered.

John went to his duffel and took out a box of Tylenol. He offered them to Ava and she nodded. John fetched her a glass of water and she swallowed down two of the pills and thanked him.

"So, what exactly did you see?" John asked.

Ava planted her hands on her knees looked at Sam. "There's a woman. You knew her. You said you'd were here to help her."

"Linda," Sam said quietly.

"Yeah. That's her. You guys are here, in the parking lot, and this Linda comes around the corner with a gun. You try to talk to her, get her to put the gun down, but she says she has to do it. She has to kill him." She nodded at Dean.

Sam's worried eyes darted to Dean. He looked shocked but his eyes were hard as he said, "And Sam's going to jump in front of me?" He made it sound like an accusation.

"Yes," Ava said emphatically. "He gets shot in the chest and…" She shuddered. "He dies."

John's hand fell on Sam's shoulder and gripped it painfully tightly. Sam tried to wrap his mind around what he was hearing. He thought he had some idea of how Jessica felt now when he'd seen her being killed. The absolute certainty in Ava's voice was like a knife in his heart. He was going to die.

"When does this happen?" John asked.

"Not today," she said, glancing around the room. "You were arguing about dinner. The pizza conversation makes sense now anyway." She frowned. "Who orders salad from a pizzeria anyway?"

"Me," Sam said. "Back on topic?"

"Oh, yeah. Okay, you've just driven back from somewhere and you're talking when she comes. She's got a pistol. There's like a minute of talking before she kills you."

"Anytime you want to stop saying that would be great," Jessica said.

"Sorry. The dream kinda cut off after he… you know… but not before Linda shot herself in the head."

"She's going to die, too?" Sam asked.

"There is no 'too'!" Dean said angrily. "There is just her when we find her."

"We can't kill her," Sam said, shocked.

"We may have to," John said quietly. "If she's coming for either of you, we have to stop her."

"And taking her gun away won't do that just as neatly?" Ava asked.

"No," Dean said.

Sam shook his head slowly. "This isn't a demon or a monster, Dean. This is person. One of us. She can't control what's happened to her. It sounds like someone else is making her do it, so we have to stop that."

"How?" John asked calmly. "If she's being controlled by someone, it's got to be the demon or one of his henchman. We're not ready to go to war yet, so we have to stop it some other way."

"Demons? War?" Ava said. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"We are talking about _Hell,"_ John said. "Demons are real and they're plotting something. We are preparing to fight them, but we don't have a weapon yet. We're still searching for it. You and Sam, and people like you, are a part of it, too. We're tracking you all down and setting you up with protections."

Ava shook her head disbelievingly. "I knew you were crazy, but, whoa… How long have you been off your meds?"

"We're not crazy," Sam said. "You and I have visions. There are two brothers that can compel you to do things with their voice. There was a guy with telekinesis but we lost him. There are more out there that I've seen but we've not found yet. There's you. I _saw_ you, too."

Ava raised an eyebrow. "You saw me?"

"Yes," Sam said eagerly. "You're getting married, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "That's obvious." She raised her hand that was bare of a ring. "You could have seen… Oh."

"You took the ring off," Sam said.

"It's being resized," she said quietly. "It kept slipping off."

"It was gold," Sam said. "It had a diamond but it was ringed with red stones."

"Rubies. They're my birthstone."

"I saw you looking at wedding magazines in a salon."

She shook her head. "This is impossible."

"It's not," Jessica said gently. "Just like you saw us, Sam saw you. He saw you for a reason, and you saw him for one, too. We're going to help you both."

"What do we do?" Ava asked.

"First of all, we get help," John said. He walked to the bed and picked up his phone and dialed quickly. "Caleb, tell me you're close to Oklahoma," he said when it was answered. "Albuquerque? You up for a drive? Yeah, we need help."

As John gave a brief explanation of what was happening, Sam turned to Ava. "We need to get you a room."

"Room? No, no way. I'm going home."

"No, you're not," Dean said firmly. "You've seen this so you're staying until it's over. You'll be safer with us."

"You heard the part about the gun, right?" she asked.

"I did," Dean said. "But you need to be taught how to protect yourself, too. This is more than a crazy girl with a gun."

"It's a war, right?" she said scathingly.

"Yes," Dean said seriously. "And you just got drafted."

"Please, Ava," Sam said gently. "We just want to help you. If Linda's being controlled by a demon, it's not safe for any of us."

Ava buried her face in her hands. "I should not have got out of bed this morning. I should have stayed the hell in Peoria."

"Maybe," Jessica said "But you coming here is going to save a life. That's worth it, right?"

Ava lowered her hands and looked from Sam to Dean. "Yeah."

It could be his imagination, his fear transferring into doubt, but Sam wasn't entirely sure she meant it.

* * *

Dean was wound tighter than he had been in a long time. Things seemed to have spun out of control. He had been teasing Jessica, enjoying his family's company, and then this woman had come and turned their lives upside down. He couldn't shake the heaviness in his chest. It felt like there was a lead weight there, the weight of fear. He could deal with fear easily when he was on a hunt or facing a demon, but this was different. This was Sam dying. There was no way to shake that off.

They were all scared, though they didn't talk about it. It was obvious in the way Jessica clung to Sam and John's eyes followed them when they moved. Ava was scared, too, but Dean knew that was more about the facts of this coming war than concern for their safety. She was currently sleeping in the room beside Sam and Jessica's. Her VW Beetle was parked beside the Impala. Dean was confident she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon as he'd stolen her keys from her purse when she was in the bathroom. The others were sleeping, too. Only Dean was spending the dawn standing outside his room, trying to calm himself.

His fear was worse because he knew there was little he could do. Caleb was coming and he and John were going to find Linda together and get her somewhere they could talk. Dean, Sam and Jessica couldn't have a part of it. Dean because he was the target, Sam because he was apparently dumb enough to jump in front of a bullet, and Jessica because none of them would risk her.

The thought of Sam taking that bullet was sickening to Dean. He never imagined Sam would be so stupid as to do something like that. He had so much to live for and he was willing to give it up it for _Dean_!

Dean knew Sam loved him, just as he did in return, but for Sam to take a bullet for him… It was madness. Of the three of them, Sam had the most to live for. Dean would sacrifice himself for one of his family in a heartbeat, but he couldn't bear the thought that they would do it for him.

The door to Sam and Jessica's room opened and Sam slipped out. He looked surprised when he saw Dean, and Dean scowled at him.

"What are you doing out here?" Dean asked.

"Same as you. Figure Dad's going to have us on house arrest for the rest of the day, so I wanted to get some air while I could."

"And if Linda comes?" Dean asked.

He smiled. "Then I guess I'll do what I'm supposed to."

"Don't even joke about it, Sam," Dean said, his words bitten off and harsh.

"Sorry," Sam said. "But it's okay. Linda is still sleeping."

"You can see that?"

"Yeah. She's crashed in front of the TV and Fox News is on. I can see the time on the headline ticker."

"That's pretty exact," Dean said.

"Yeah. It's about a minute ahead of what's happening. I think it's going to be useful."

Dean considered how powerful his brother was getting. There was a flaw though.

"Why do you think you didn't see?" he asked. "Something as big as getting shot should have triggered a vision, right?"

Sam looked uncomfortable. "I don't know."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "I think you do."

"I'm not sure," Sam said. "I think it's maybe because the danger was to me. I have seen myself in visions, _been_ myself, but only ever when the danger was to someone else. I've never seen anything coming for me."

"The danger was to me, though."

Sam looked apologetic. "I think it was predetermined that I would do what I did."

"You mean you were destined to jump in front of me!" Dean said incredulously.

"Yes."

"Why?" Dean asked, cursing the waver in his voice.

"Same reason I would if it was Dad or Jess. Because I couldn't not. I love you."

Dean turned his face away, anger warring with happiness in his heart. Sam said it so sincerely, as if he couldn't _not_ say it. He fought the burn in his eyes as he looked back at Sam." Don't _ever_ do that to me."

Sam frowned. "Tell you I love you?"

"Don't think it's okay to sacrifice yourself for me. You, Dad, Jess, you're my whole life. If any of you were gone, I would be lost. I would have nothing left to offer. You do. You have this whole life ahead of you, marriage, college, a career. I don't have any of that. I'm a grunt."

Sam face darkened. "No, you are not. You save lives, Dean. You're a hero. My life is not worth any more than yours. We have different lives, that's all."

"It's not the same," Dean growled. "It's my job to save you."

"And it's mine to save you," Sam said doggedly. "I'm not a hunter, I don't save people, but I would do this because it's the right thing to do."

"How am I supposed to live with that?" Dean asked earnestly

"How would I if you died?" Sam countered. Dean glared at him and Sam sighed heavily. "We're never going to agree on this," he said. "We both know what's right for us and think we know what's right for the other. There's only way to fix it."

"What's that?" Dean asked.

"Agree not to get shot at," Sam said with a smile.

"You think it'll be as easy as that?"

"No, but I think it's all we can do. Dad and Caleb are going to find Linda and we'll make her understand. We'll help her. She doesn't have to be a murderer."

Dean nodded. "Fine. Deal. But I swear, Sam, you do this, die for me, and I'll kill you."

Sam laughed softly. "Got it."

The door beside Dean opened and John stuck his head out. His eyes widened when he saw them. "What the hell are you two doing? Get in here now!"

Sam passed him and walked into the room, his head bowed. Dean hesitated a moment before following.

He had made that farce deal with Sam, but he knew the truth. If something was coming, a threat, he would make sure Sam didn't have a chance to sacrifice himself. Dean was the older brother and he knew his job.

* * *

John sometimes wondered how boys as smart as his could be so damn stupid. Standing outside the motel where they'd been told someone was coming to shoot them. It was like they were asking for trouble.

Sam had explained that he'd seen Linda was still in her home, but that wasn't a good enough excuse for John, and he made that abundantly clear with a long lecture that they'd both accepted with grace. He thought about it now with a pang as he saw Caleb's Mustang pull into the lot through the window.

"He's here," he said to the room and went to open the door to his friend.

"John," Caleb said cheerfully as he came into the room. "Another crisis, huh?"

"Afraid so," John said, closing the door behind him and gesturing him to a seat. "Sam and Jess, you know. And this is Ava. She's here to help us."

Sam and Jessica greeted him from their place side-by-side on the bed and Ava looked up from her spot at the table.

"Nice to meet you, Ava," Caleb said happily. "Jessica, last time I saw you, we were sharing a salt shaker. You sure like your tequila, huh?"

Jessica smiled ruefully. "Maybe not again after last time."

Caleb laughed. "So, John what's the plan?" he asked.

"We've got an address from Ash," he said. "I figure we'll suit up and go in as Feds. We need to disarm her and get her somewhere to talk."

"Back here," Sam said.

John rounded on him. "Here! Why don't you just go lie down in the street and wait for a semi to run you over?" He regretted his harsh words at once but Sam bore them calmly.

"Ava and I have the best chance at reaching her and helping. We know what she's going through. If you disarm her, we will all be safe. She's not going to be able to hurt anyone if we're all here."

John conceded his point, but the thought of Sam's murderer being that close to him went against his need to protect his family.

"Fine," he said grudgingly. "But if I feel anything wrong, any doubt when I have my hands on her, I will take her somewhere else and do it alone."

"And you won't hurt her?" Sam asked.

"Not unless she forces me to," John said.

Sam looked at him wide-eyed and pleading, employing the look he hadn't used on John since he was four years old and trying to persuade him he was okay to go in the pool with his arm bandaged.

"I'll judge it when I have her," he said, his tone brooking no room for argument.

Sam nodded and closed his eyes. His brow creased with a pained frown and the said, "Okay. She's home for at least ten minutes, but she's awake now so I don't know how long she'll stay."

"We better get going then, Caleb."

John grabbed his keys from the table and turned to the door. He froze when he heard a cry of pain, and spun to look at Ava who was pressing her hand to her temple and scrunching her face with pain.

Sam climbed off the bed and went to her side. He rubbed her back and said, "Just breathe, Ava. It won't last long."

With all eyes on her, Ava breathed through the pain. When her eyes opened again, they fixed on Sam. "What the hell was that?"

"A vision," Sam said.

"That _hurt_!

"They do," Sam agreed. "What did you see?"

She rubbed at her eyes. "You two." She looked from Dean to John. "You were standing in the middle of nowhere, at this old crossroads, arguing over this little tin box. You pushed Dean away and then…" She frowned. "It looked like you buried it. There was this woman with red eyes and…" She shook her head. "I think that's it."

Dean and John exchanged looks laden with meaning. There was only one reason for the two of them to be at a crossroads and Sam not with them; they were dealing for him. John's eyes fell on Sam and horror rose in him. They weren't going to avert it. Sam was going to die.

"Sammy," Dean said quietly, obviously coming to the same conclusion.

"What?" Sam asked. "What does she mean? What would you be doing at a crossroads?"

John swallowed down his horror and said, "I don't know, Son."

"Don't lie to me," Sam said, sounding hurt. "What the hell does a crossroads have to do with us?"

Dean looked imploringly at John, and John knew he was trying to communicate the need to stay silent, but John couldn't lie to Sam about something so important.

"A crossroads is where deals are made," he said.

"Dad!" Dean growled.

"What do you mean deals?" Sam asked.

"Demon deals," John said quietly. "Demons can grant requests, big stuff, but there's a cost. You get ten years to live your life, reaping the rewards of the deal, and then they come for you."

"Who comes?" Sam asked.

"Hellhounds. They come and kill you then drag your soul to Hell."

Sam paled. "That's what you're doing? You're making a _deal_!"

Jessica got off of the bed and went to his side. She laid a hand on his chest, but Sam seemed to take no comfort from the action.

"It must be," John said.

"Why the hell would you do that?" Sam asked. "What can you want so much that you'd go to Hell for it?"

"You," John said.

"What about me?"

John glanced at Dean and he nodded slightly. He knew Dean was as decided in this as he was. Like John, he probably had been since Ava had told them about her dream. "We'd deal to save you."

Sam's eyes bugged. "No!" he rasped then his voice rose to a shout. "No! You can't do that!"

"Baby," Jessica said gently.

"No, Jessica," he growled. John had never heard him speak to her so harshly. Their words were usually tempered with love at all times.

"Sammy," Dean said. "You don't understand."

Sam glared at him. "I don't? Didn't you listen to a word I said this morning? You will _not_ do that. Neither of you."

"Okay, Sam," John said. "Calm down. Let's deal with one thing at a time. The only reason Ava would have seen that is because we haven't averted the vision yet. We're going to do that and this will be a moot point. Now look and see where she is."

Sam glowered at him.

"Please," John said.

Sam sighed and closed his eyes. "She's still at home. No! Wait! She's leaving now. She's going onto on Main Street. She's wearing a red shirt and denim jacket. She has a baseball cap pulled low." He winced. "She's going to go into a pawn shop."

The ideal place to buy a shady gun.

"Come on, John," Caleb said harshly. "We have to go!"

John pointed at Sam. "You stay in this room." He looked to Dean to encompass him in the command. "Both of you. Stay away from the window and open the door only to me. Understand?"

Sam nodded, still looking angry. "You won't make a deal?"

"Keep yourself safe and I won't need to," John said. Before Sam could say another word, he yanked the door open and rushed out.

Caleb paused outside the door. "Which way?" he asked intensely.

"Left," John said, setting out at a jog.

"We look a little suspicious," Caleb said, falling into step at his side. "We're not dressed for a run."

"Doesn't matter. As long as we get to her before she's armed I don't care."

John turned the next corner and they ran past a row of stores and an Italian restaurant. When they took the next corner, Caleb slapped a hand on John's chest.

"She's there."

John saw her, too. She was dressed exactly as Sam had said, the cap pulled low over her eyes. She was standing outside the pawn shop, looking in the window. John slowed his pace, not wanting to spook her and scare her away. He would stop her no matter what, but he didn't think it would be a good idea to tackle her on the street.

"Let me handle it," Caleb said, moving ahead a little of John. He walked at a fast pace toward Linda and greeted her effusively, "Linda! It's been a while."

She turned to him, a startled smile on her lips that became a frown and then look of fear as Caleb caught her arm and steered her towards an alley.

John rushed to them and said in a low voice as he took her other arm. "Don't be scared. We're not here to hurt you."

Moving her was like moving a wooden cutout. She was almost completely frozen. They went into the alley and John saw it was deep and lined with dumpsters, leading to another street. Caleb guided her between two dumpsters and leaned in close.

"Are you armed?"

She shook her head jerkily.

"Forgive us if we come off as untrusting," John said. He patted down her sides then turned her to face the wall do her back. There was a bulge in her back pocket and he pulled out a cell phone.

"Please don't hurt me," she said quietly.

John turned her back to face them and said, "Don't give us a reason to and we won't."

"What do you want?"

"We want to talk," John said. "We know what you're planning to do, and we want to help you."

She frowned. "You want to help me kill him?"

"No," Caleb said harshly. "We're going to help you stop."

"You don't work for him?" she asked.

John frowned. "Who?"

She looked terrified. "The yellow-eyed man."

"No," John growled. "We're the ones that are going to stop him."

"You can't," she said desperately. "He can't be killed."

"He tell you that, did he?"

She nodded, still looking stricken.

"He's wrong," John said.

Caleb pushed down John's shoulder as a family walked past the mouth of the alley and he ducked out of sight, his hand over Linda's mouth. "Scream and I will kill you," he threatened.

Linda nodded and held her breath.

When the people had passed, John straightened.

"We can't stay here," Caleb said. "We're going to be seen. We should get her back to the others."

John was torn. He wanted her nowhere near Sam or Dean, but she was unarmed and there was nothing she could do with them all watching her.

He nodded. "We're going for a walk. You will stay between us. You won't try to run or scream. If you do, we will hurt you."

Caleb reached into the back of his pants and pulled out a switchblade. "I will do more than hurt you," he stated.

Her eyes bugged and she whispered, "I won't run. I won't make a sound."

Satisfied, John grabbed her arm and led her back onto the street. Caleb walked at her other side, his blade held up his sleeve. John forced himself to smile and hissed at her to do the same. Glancing down, he saw she'd obeyed. They didn't draw any notice from the people around them, each focused on their own shopping expeditions.

When they got to the motel, Linda slowed and John hissed, "Keep going." He led her to the door and knocked twice. "It's us," he said loudly.

Jessica opened the door, her eyes shocked as she saw the girl braced between them. She stepped back and John pushed Linda inside and then followed. Caleb closed the door behind him and grabbed a chair from beside the table. He pulled it into the middle of the room in front of Linda and said, "Take a seat."

Linda sat down and her eyes fell on Dean. She looked afraid, more afraid than she had when Caleb had showed her his knife.

Jessica moved back to Sam's side where he sat on the bed beside Ava. Sam wrapped his arm around her shoulders and fixed his gaze on Linda.

"Hello," he said mildly. "My name is Sam."

"I'm Linda," she said quietly.

"This is Ava," Sam said, nodding to the girl beside him. "We're like you."

Linda looked confused. "What do you mean like me?"

"We have powers, too. We have visions," Sam explained. "And you can control fire."

"How do you know that?"

"I saw you," Sam said. "Look, I know you're scared, but none of us here want to hurt you. We know what you're planning. We want to help you stop."

She jerked her head at Caleb. "He had a knife. He said he would hurt me."

"But he didn't," Dean said. "Yet."

"Dean," Sam said softly.

"No," Dean said. "Since she's coming to shoot at me, I think I've got a right to tell her the truth." He glared at Linda. "What you're planning to do is going to go wrong. You won't get me. You'll kill my brother instead. If you think we're going to let that happen without trying to stop you, you're wrong. You even look at him funny, I will end you. Understand?"

Sam turned startled eyes on his brother. John knew he hadn't seen this side of Dean before—the hunter pushed to his limit.

"I understand," she said in a whisper.

"Good," Dean said, satisfied. "Now, you want to tell us why you're going to try to kill me?"

"The yellow-eyed man said I have to," she said fearfully.

"You've seen him?" Dean asked, his voice shocked.

"He comes in my dreams," she said. "He's been coming for weeks. He tells me I need to practice with fire. I have to open my mind and let myself learn. He said I have to be ready for the war. He showed me a picture of the one to kill." She looked at Dean. "You."

John stepped toward her, getting menacingly close, incensed by the way she was looking at his son. "What do you know about the war?

"They need a leader," she said. "It's going to be a big fight and we need to be ready for him."

"Is that all?" he asked, disappointed. He was hoping that if the demon was visiting her, he'd have told her more than that.

"Why Dean?" Sam asked. "Did he say why you had to kill him?"

She shook her head. "He just told me I had to or he'd…"

"He'd what?" Dean asked.

"He'd kill me. He said he'd burn me alive."

Sam looked sick. He turned desperate eyes on John, but John had no idea how to help him. They needed to do more than just teach her protections, as protections could be breached; the demons that had possessed Brady and Rick had proven that. She needed a hunter's constant protection, but how could he arrange that with everything else that they were doing?

"We can get you somewhere safe," Dean said. "Somewhere he can't get you, but you have to swear you won't hurt anyone."

John raised a questioning eyebrow at his son.

"Bobby's," Dean explained. "It's better protected that any other place on earth. He can take care of her while we do what we need to do."

"Do you think he'd do that?" Sam asked hopefully.

John nodded. "I think so." What was more, he didn't doubt Bobby would also keep her locked down if she looked like she was going to hurt someone. "Dean, give him a call," John said. "Explain what's happening and ask if we can take her there."

Dean stood and walked out of the door, his phone in his hand.

"If we can do this, you'll be safe," John told Linda. "Our friend will protect you, but you have to tell him everything. If you have more dreams, if the Demon tells you anything else, we need to know."

Linda nodded. "I will."

John watched Dean out of the open door, seeing his expression morph into a smile as Bobby evidently agreed to help them. He gave John the thumbs up and then ended the call with profusive thanks.

"He'll do it," he said, coming back into the room and tucking his phone in his pocket. "We just have to get her there."

"I think sooner rather than later," John said. "Caleb, you mind making a run to Sioux Falls?"

"Of course not," Caleb said. He looked down at Linda. "I'll take you by your place to collect what you need, and then we'll go somewhere safe. You can't tell anyone what you're doing, though. Understand?"

"Yeah," she said disconsolately. "There's no one that'd care anyway."

Caleb jerked his head toward the door. "Come on then."

Sam stood and walked towards her as she got up and followed Caleb towards the door. "We will come and seen you when we can," he said gently. "But Bobby will protect you. He's a good man."

"Thank you," she said quietly.

She went out after Caleb and he gestured her to the Mustang. She had her hand on the door when her eyes glazed.

"Linda?" John said. "You okay?"

At the same moment, Ava cried out in pain. John spun to look at her, seeing that Sam looked pained, too, and so missed his chance to stop it.

He heard Caleb shout out Linda's name, and he turned just in time to see her dodging Caleb's reach and running out into the road. There was the blare of a horn then a thump. Linda bounced from the hood to windshield of the car and then slid down to the ground again.

John stood, frozen in place, as Caleb ran towards her. He dropped down to his knees and pressed his fingers to Linda's throat. John knew even before Caleb shook his head that it was too late. Ava and Sam had seen it after all.

Sam pushed past him, a cry ripping from him, and John caught his arm. Sam fought to get free and John wrapped his arms around his chest.

"It's too late, Son," he said. "She's gone."

"Why would she do that?" Jessica asked, her eyes fixed on the view through the window.

"I think she saw the alternative," Dean said, putting an arm around her shoulders.

"She killed herself to save us," Sam said miserably, sagging in John's grip.

"No," Dean corrected. "She did it to save herself from something worse."

* * *

 **So… Poor Linda. Another necessary death I'm afraid. It was Gredelina1's idea that they all set out to find and help the special children and I think it was a pretty awesome one. What do you think?**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	23. Chapter 23

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing this for me. You're the best beta around. Thank you also Gredelina1 for all your help getting the ideas down. Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I passed 200 reviews with the last chapter, and that was an awesome feeling.**

 **I'm putting this chapter out early as I'm sending out a plea for help, too. Check the author's note at the end for more info.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Twenty-Three**_

Sam and John sat side by side in the corner of the loud bar. They each had a beer in front of them, but neither had drunk more than a quarter of the bottle. They were just props. They both knew they needed to keep themselves alert when dealing with this man more than any of the others.

Ash had found where Jake Talley's base was for them with some clever snooping, and they'd finally tracked him, through some careful monitoring on Sam's part, to this bar.

They were all feeling disheartened after Linda's death. Sam himself felt massive guilt that they hadn't been able to stop her in time. He had seen what was coming, but it happened at almost the same moment. There was nothing they could have done; he knew that on a rational level, but his heart still ached for the waste of a life. A young woman that could have achieved so much if given the chance had died. The fact they had found and convinced three more of the special children to learn to protect themselves since her death didn't cancel out her loss. And now they seemed bound on course to fail this time with Jake, too.

"Look man," Jake said, fixing his eyes on Sam. "I'm sure you're a good guy, but you need help."

"No," Sam argued. " _You_ need our help."

Jake laughed. "Because the demons are coming for me? For the war?" He scoffed. "There is no demon war. There is only one war I am going to be fighting and that will be with my buddies in about a week."

"You're shipping out?" John asked.

"Yes," Jake said. "So if you could both stop trying to ruin my last night of peace and freedom, that'd be great."

"Are you scared?" John asked.

"No!" He sounded insulted but Sam could see it was a lie.

"I was scared," John said.

Jake frowned. "You've served?"

"Vietnam," John replied. "I was a corporal. Echo Company, First Marines. I was terrified. I'm scared now, too, for my son and people like him. People like you."

"I don't need help though," Jake said. "Okay. Say you're not nuts and you do really have these… abilities. I don't. I've never moved anything with my mind or compelled someone with my voice or any of the other crap you're talking about. There is nothing special about me. I am just a soldier."

That was a part of the problem. Sam had seen nothing of Jake's power in his visions. It was entirely possible his ability hadn't presented yet, which explained why it was impossible for him to believe what they were saying. Sam remembered how he had felt when faced with the incredible facts of his kidnapping and real family. He hadn't been able to wrap his mind around it until he had seen the truth for himself in John's familiarity and the photographs.

"Will you do something for us?" Sam asked.

"If it means you'll leave me alone, absolutely," Jake said.

"Tell us if something changes. If you see or do something you can't explain, call. We'll be able to help you." He jotted his cell number on a napkin and slid it over the table. "We'll believe you, whatever it is."

Jake tucked the napkin in his pocket with a sigh. "Got it. You have a nice life." He got to his feet and walked back to the bar.

Sam sighed. "Well, that went well." He let his head fall back against the wall, feeling emotionally drained by this latest failure.

"We tried," John said. "We were bound to come up against someone we couldn't convince at some point."

Sam nodded. "I just hope he calls. Max and Linda are dead because there was no one there to help them. I don't want Jake to slip away, too."

"I don't think we will. Jake has got his head on right and he'll have a good support network with his unit. He should cope with it better than the rest." He patted Sam's shoulder. "He'll be okay."

Sam tried to find comfort in his father's words but there was little to be had. He didn't think he was ever going to hear from Jake again.

"Shall we get back?" John asked.

"Yeah." Sam slowly got to his feet and they crossed the bar and went out onto the street.

He hunched his shoulders and stuffed his hands in his pockets as they walked back to the motel. John seemed to sense that he didn't want to talk as he stayed silent.

When they got back to the motel, Sam knocked on the door and Dean answered. "How did it go?" he asked.

"Not good," Sam said. "He didn't believe us."

"Damn."

Jessica was sitting on one of the beds, talking on the phone. She held out a hand to Sam and he went to sit beside her, intertwining their fingers.

"Yeah, his name's Darryl," Jessica said into the phone. "He's got psychometry. Basically, he can feel memories and moments trapped in objects and people. He shook John's hand and it almost knocked him on his ass."

Darryl was the special child they'd found before Jake. He'd been more than willing to listen, seeming relieved that someone had some answers for him at last. His family had tried to persuade him to be medicated when his power came into being. He couldn't hide it from them at first because his reactions to touch were intense. Over time he had become better at controlling it. His reaction to John had been shocking though. It made sense as John had led a crazy life and seen many terrible things, but neither Sam nor Dean had realized he held so much inside him still.

Sam turned Jessica's ring on her finger as she spoke to Ava, only looking up when Jessica said, "Oh? That's a really good idea."

Sam's interest was piqued, wondering what Ava had said and how it could help them, but he quickly realized it was nothing to do with their immediate situation.

"Disposable cameras? And you just put them out on the tables for other people to use? Like a centerpiece? Yeah, I get it. You see both sides of the wedding day. That's great, Ava. Thanks."

Sam smiled slightly. That Jessica and Ava could find familiarity in wedding planning was good. It pleased Jessica, and it made Ava more likely to contact them before Jessica had the time to make her daily call to her.

Sam was proud of Jessica for the role she so readily accepted for them in the mission. She called the others every day, checking in, comforting those that needed it, and keeping track of what was happening in their lives. She could be relied upon to tell who was struggling and what they needed. Scott especially needed it. He had been found a week ago in Indiana. His ability was to pass an electric shock through touch. He seemed a gentle person and having such an offensive gift was hard for him to handle. He lived with his father in almost total seclusion He was scared to touch anyone. Though he hadn't mentioned it to them when they'd met, Scott had confided in them since that his father was pushing for him to enter some kind of treatment facility. The only positive was that his father was so accustomed to Scott's paranoia that he didn't raise any objections when Scott started laying salt lines and painting devil's traps onto the floor.

Laura and Karen, the other two special children they had found had been harder than Scott to convince. Laura, with her telekinesis had been open to their explanation until demons had been mentioned, but Karen, with her ability to tap into other's dreams, already had a pretty open mind as a self-confessed hippy. Eventually they were completely persuaded of the truth and they were now protected.

"Okay, Ava, I'll speak to you tomorrow," Jessica said. "Bye." She set the phone down and leaned up to kiss Sam's cheek. "No joy with Jake?" she asked.

"No," Sam said heavily. "His power doesn't seem to have presented yet either. And he's shipping out next week, so if something does happen, we probably can't do anything for him."

"I'm sorry," Jessica said.

"It had to happen eventually," Sam said. "Everyone else has been eventually convinced so far."

She nodded. "By the way, Scott's not answering his phone. I've called a couple times. You want to take a look?"

"Sure." Sam closed his eyes, trying to hide the spike of pain he felt when he reached for the door behind which Scott was. He obviously failed as Jessica ran her warm hand across his brow and soothed him gently.

He eased open the door in his mind and saw Scott at once. He was lying on his bed in his dimly lit bedroom, staring up at the ceiling. Sam pulled out of his mind and said, "He's not doing good. He's just lying on his bed, staring again."

Jessica sighed. "Do you think we should make a visit to see him?"

"I don't think it will do any good," Sam said. "And we need to find Sarah and Lily more."

They were the last two of the people Sam had seen. Sarah was going to be easier to find as they had a vague location for her—a park with a sign above the gate locating it in Tennessee. Lily was harder. They knew her name was Lily Bates and she'd had the nursery fire. She'd been raised in foster care, but that had been all they could find. She'd seemed to drop off the map about six months ago. Even Ash hadn't been able to find her. Sam only knew that she lived in seclusion in a cabin in the middle of the woods. She sometimes sat outside, but most of the time he saw her inside, reading by the glow of a Coleman lantern.

"Any more on Lily?" Dean asked.

Sam opened the door in his mind and focused. Lily was sitting in the same dim room he'd seen before, her eyes distant despite the book in her hands. There was no clue to where she was.

"Nothing," he said.

"We should sleep," John said. "We'll set out to find Sarah tomorrow."

Jessica nodded and pushed herself up from the bed and held out a hand to Sam. He took it and followed her out of the room, waving a lazy hand in farewell to Dean and John.

Only when Sam had downed a couple of Tylenol and settled into bed with Jessica curled up against him did he relax again, pushing thoughts of Lily and Scott from his mind for a while.

* * *

"That's her," Sam said as they walked into the park.

Dean's eyes followed his and saw the woman he gestured to was sitting on a bench watching children on the playground equipment.

Sam had floated the idea of him and Jessica going alone to find Sarah, thinking they'd have a better chance of connecting with her if they approached her alone, but John had immediately vetoed that plan. He and Dean had agreed, however, that Sam and Jessica could make the approach alone, but they would stay close just in case they were needed.

"You want to go right in?" Jessica asked. "We could say we're scouting the area for a place to live."

Sam considered. "That might work."

"We'll go sit out of the way," John said.

They headed to a picnic table under some trees while Sam and Jessica started toward the bench where Sarah sat, but everyone stopped suddenly.

Dean looked past Sam to where Sarah sat. A child was running towards her, her hands stretched out. "Momma, I'm thirsty." Sarah already had a juice box out of her bag and held out to the little girl.

"She's got a kid!" Dean hissed.

Sam quickly turned away. "I didn't know!" he said. "I've seen her here a bunch of times but there was never a child in the vision."

Things had just gotten a whole lot more complicated. They could approach people alone, and risk their disbelief, but a mother with a child was going to be even more on her guard.

"Let's take a seat and talk a minute," John said. "We need to come up with a different angle."

They all sat down at the picnic table, Sam and Jessica sitting closer than usual. Dean tried not to let his eyes fixate on the woman and her child. He looked at his father instead, knowing he was the only one among them who would have any chance of knowing how that woman would feel when they started telling her the truth as he held the same fear for his own son.

Jessica leaned her head against Sam's shoulder and said, "Any idea of how she's going to take it?"

Sam focused for a moment, his eyes closed and brow tight with pain. "No. I can't see any of us talking to her. Either it's too far ahead and or it's not set yet."

"Maybe we don't have to," Dean suggested. "She's got a kid. If she knew the truth, she'd be terrified. Maybe we can protect her from afar. Caleb would be willing to help, I'm sure. He can come keep an eye on her."

John shook his head slowly. "She needs to know. We should probably get Caleb in anyway, but we have to tell her, too."

"Why?" Sam asked.

"Because she has the most to lose. She has to be armed with the truth so she can protect herself and her child. Even that might not be enough."

Jessica frowned. "What do you mean?"

John sighed. "I knew the truth of the world when I left Sam and Dean in the motel that night so I could go after the Shtriga. I had protected them as much as possible, using all the knowledge I had gained. It wasn't enough. Sam was taken anyway. If this woman is drafted into the demon's plans, she might not be able to do enough either. We have to give her the best shot we can."

Dean raked a hand over his face. The thought of that little girl being a casualty of the war was horrific, but how were they going to tell a mother that she was a part of a grand plan being plotted by a demon?

"Momma, what's wrong?" the little girl asked, and Dean looked over Sam's shoulder to see Sarah looking at them with narrowed eyes.

"I think we might have a problem," he muttered.

"Yeah, that's definitely a problem," John agreed watching as Sarah sent her daughter back to the playground with whispered instructions and then stood and walked towards them. She came to a stop at the head of the table beside Sam.

"If you're trying to be undercover, you're not very good at it," she said.

"Undercover?" Sam asked innocently.

"You're from the government, right?" she asked. "I wondered when it would happen." She looked from Sam to John. "Want to tell me what you want from me?"

Dean thought she sounded remarkably self-assured, though she must be scared.

"I'm not scared," she said, staring down at Dean. "I know I'm stronger than you where it matters."

Dean blinked. A creeping suspicion came to him, and he hoped he was right, as it would be a whole lot easier if she could see the truth of their honesty in their thoughts. "Did you just…"

"Read your mind?" she asked. "Yeah. I thought you would know about it if you're here for me."

"Oh…" Jessica breathed as she caught on. "We're not here for you like you're thinking. We want to help."

She frowned. "You're really telling the truth. You're not government?"

Dean supposed someone should have had this theory already. If someone had seen enough movies and read enough sci-fi books, it was the obvious conclusion to come to when they presented abilities the like of that which they'd seen.

"We're not with the government," Sam said. "We're just regular people like you. I'm more like you than anyone here. You can read thoughts. I have vision of the future. We're here to help. We want to protect you."

She stared into Sam's eyes and frowned, then her gaze snapped to Jessica and she paled and gripped the edge of the table. Sam quickly got to his feet and guided her to sit on the edge of the bench. Dean wondered how much she'd seen in Jessica's head to make her react like that. She answered his question with her next word.

"War?"

Sam nodded reluctantly. "I'm sorry. We're going to stop it though."

"I might not be able to read you, but I know you're not as confident about that as you sound," she said.

Dean's gaze snapped to Sam and he shook his head slightly to indicate he wasn't talking about it.

"I can't read his mind," she said, responding to Dean's confused thought with a glare at Sam. "Everyone else's thoughts are there but yours. Why is that?"

"I'm not sure," Sam said. "Some kind of defense from the powers maybe. There were two others that couldn't use theirs on me either."

She grimaced.

"Momma, what's wrong?" The little girl was running towards them, worry etched all over her young face.

Sarah opened her arms to her and the child nestled into her chest. "It's okay, Sophie. Momma's fine," she said. "Just got another sore head is all. You go play. I'll be there soon."

Sophie looked reluctant but she obeyed and walked back to the climbing frame.

"Tell me everything," Sarah said intensely.

Sam started the explanation with how his visions had manifested months ago. He didn't tell how he had seen Jessica die; he moved quickly on to how he had found other people with other abilities. He told her how he had gained control of the visions with Missouri's help.

"And you came looking for me and the others," Sarah finished for him.

Sam nodded. "We want to help you all."

"You didn't help everyone though," she said. "You weren't in time for that Max or the woman that ran into the street. I can see him thinking about it." She jerked her head at John.

Sam flinched. "I know. That's why it's so important that you let us help you."

She sighed heavily. "I thought it was a gift. I could hear what my daughter was thinking. Have you any idea how pure a four-year old's thoughts are?"

Dean glanced at Sam. He thought he could imagine. Sam had been open and pure as a child.

"You're telling me it's not a gift though," she said. "It's a curse."

"We don't know," John said. "You're right. We didn't stop Max or Linda, because we didn't get to them in time before they were corrupted. We will never be able to change that, but I know that won't happen to you. You have something to protect you from that fate: your little girl. I'm a parent, too. Sam and Dean are my sons, and I know how it feels to love them more than anything in this life. They protect me from myself."

"There's a fight coming though," Sarah said. "Demons."

"Yes," John agreed. "But we can fight back. We're getting a weapon, and we have people looking for the demon. When we find it, we'll end it before it can hurt any of you."

She looked at John with confusion. "You really believe that?"

"You know I do," John said. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be here talking to you. I would be finding the safest place for my son that I can and hiding him there."

Sam smiled slightly.

"What do I have to do?" she asked.

"Help us lay protections for you," John said. "Let us teach you how to take care of yourself and your daughter."

She nodded solemnly. "Okay. You better come with me."

* * *

John and Sarah were sitting in the living room of her small house discussing the power of holy water and salt. They had already laid traps in the doorways and each room that were currently drying in readiness for rugs and mats to be laid over them. No other place had ever had so much protection.

Sarah listened attentively to John's words and nodded as John told her how to bless more water. John was feeling more confident with her than he had been with any of the others. She listened carefully and asked the right questions. More than that was the fact she had something truly worth fighting for. The little girl that was currently sitting on the floor with Sam and Jessica playing a board game was all the motivation Sarah needed to get through this.

As John watched, Sam rolled the dice and groaned theatrically as Sophie laughed. "You have to go down the chute," she said gleefully, taking Sam's token and sliding it to the bottom of the gameboard.

Jessica grinned at him and patted his shoulder. "It's okay, baby. Winning isn't everything."

"Don't be sad, Sammy," Sophie said. "You can win next time."

John chuckled. Dean had called Sam by his nickname once and Sophie had seized on it, seeming to enjoy having something that made her special. She was already plenty special. She was a bright kid that had taken Sam and Jessica to her heart pretty much instantly. She reminded John a lot of Sam when he was young.

Sam turned his exaggerated look of sadness into a smile. "Promise?"

Sophie nodded solemnly. "Promise." Behind her back, her fingers were crossed.

Sam handed the her die and said, "Go on then, Miss Sophie. Show me how it's done."

"He's so good with her," Sarah said quietly.

John nodded. He was thinking the same. He'd never seen Sam interact with a child before, but he supposed it made sense that he would be able to engage with children as well as he did with adults. He knew he would make an amazing father one day.

The thought brought him up short. John had not considered grandchildren as a part of his future. He was just happy to have Sam, Dean and Jessica in his life. But he realized now that one day that would probably be reality. Sam would be a dad and John would be a grandfather. He found himself smiling widely.

Sarah shared his smile with a knowing look, evidently following the path of his thoughts. "She doesn't have many men in her life," she said. "Her dad split when I found out I was pregnant. We were only seventeen and I guess he just wasn't old enough to man up and take care of us. My dad left when I was little, so it's just me and my mom in her family."

"That must have been really hard for you," John said.

She shrugged. "It was at first. But when she was born, I realized I would never love anything in the world as much as I love her, so maybe it was better that there was no one else. That way I would never make someone feel second best."

John remembered the feeling he had when he'd first looked at his newborn sons. He'd never thought he would love anyone as much as he loved Mary, but with each new bundle placed in his arms, his heart expanded to hold them all equally.

Dean opened the back door and came in from the yard, tucking his phone into his pocket. "Caleb's willing to help. He's on his way here now. He's in Arkansas, so he's probably not going to be here till this evening."

John nodded and turned to Sarah. "And this is still okay with you?"

"Having a strange man come live with me? I'll manage." She smiled. "Seriously though, if it's what I need to keep myself and Sophie safe, I'll do anything. She's all I care about."

John nodded as he looked from Sam to Dean who was watching his brother laugh with Sophie and he nodded. He understood perfectly.

* * *

 **So… Jake is unconvinced but Sarah is a believer. When I decided I wanted to explore the special children as a storyline, I realized I would need more powers to use than they showed us in canon. That led to some weird research on some weird websites but I think Daryll's Psychometry is my favorite.**

 **A plea for help:** I need a little assistance. I am working on a story that is currently set in the early eighties. How do you think hunters found cases before the age of the internet? Would strange stories appear outside of local newspapers? Have any of my writer-readers had this question themselves?

Jenjoremy, Gredelina1 and I have a few theories and I wondered if anyone had any others for me. It's a point that's slowing my writing down.

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	24. Chapter 24

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for the fab beta job, and Gredelina1 for the support and encouragement. Thank you all for reading, reviewing, and extra thanks for answering my plea last time.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Twenty-Four**_

Dean watched Jessica flipping through a notebook, her brow furrowed. They were staying in a Colorado motel while John made a visit to Daniel Elkins, and Jessica was using the downtime to do some wedding planning.

"Baby, do you think we should put Carrie with Zach and the others or do we need to get her little further away from your dad for his own safety?" She tapped her pen against her chin. "I'd put her with Becky but since she's with the wedding party, I can't."

"Carrie is the one that thinks Dad is a DILF, right?" Dean asked with a grin.

Jessica laughed. "She's really a sweet girl, but she's got the devil in her when she's drinking. I think I'll put her with Zach. He'll keep an eye on her for us."

"Where are we sitting?" Dean asked.

"Well, traditionally you'd be at the head table with us and the rest of the wedding party. But if that's going to be too much for you, we'll put you somewhere a little quieter with your friends."

Dean smiled. He thought it was great that Sam and Jessica were inviting their hunter friends as well as college ones. Caleb, Bobby, Jim, Daniel, Ellen and Bill had all called with questions when they'd received their formal invitations, as had Missouri. Sam wanted everyone that was a part of the fight with them, the people that were risking their necks to help him and the other special children, to be invited. Dean had been astounded to learn that even Bobby was planning on coming. He'd thought a wedding would be the last thing on his wish list. He was pleased that he was though. It really mattered to Sam and Jessica.

"Anywhere is fine with us as long as we're together," he said, pushing down the nerves he always felt at the thought of the looming wedding day. He wanted to see his brother married and Jessica becoming his real sister, but he had never even attended a wedding before, much less been a part of one. John, of course, had been to his own wedding and had attended several others before his life as a hunter put an end to such events. The closest Dean came was taking out the ghost of a jilted lover that was targeting a wedding party a few years back.

"It there anyone else you want somewhere special, baby?" Jessica asked, looking up. "Sam?"

Dean's looked at Sam and saw his pinched brow and closed eyes. He frowned. Sam was searching for Lily again. In the four days since they'd left Sarah and Caleb, he had been doing it a lot. He seemed to gain nothing new by looking, but he kept trying regardless. She was the only one they hadn't found yet, and Sam thought she was as vulnerable as Scott.

"Sam!" he said loudly.

Sam blinked and shook his head. "Sorry, what?"

Dean went to his bag and pulled out the box of Tylenol he kept for these instances. He handed Sam a bottle of water and the box without a word. Sam didn't argue, which meant he was really in need of the pain relief. He popped two pills out of the blister pack and knocked them back with water.

Jessica put her notepad and pen down on the bedside table and shifted closer to him on the bed. She rested her head on his shoulder and he ran a hand through her hair and sighed heavily.

"There's nothing new," he said, though they already knew that by the fact he hadn't volunteered the information.

"Take a break," Dean said. "You're going to exhaust yourself."

"I can't," Sam said. "We need to find her. I can't even tell how far ahead I'm seeing with her. It's daytime, but that's all I know. She looks like she's suffering."

"Looks like you are, too," Dean said.

Sam shook his head. "It's not as bad now that I can control them."

"It may not be _as_ bad, but it's still hurting you," Jessica said.

Sam smoothed a hand up her arm. "I'll be okay. What were you saying about tables?"

Jessica smiled impishly. "I decided to put Carrie at the wedding party table next to your dad."

Sam frowned. "Has he upset you somehow?"

"No," Jessica said innocently. "But Dean told me they hit it off at the party. Thought it might be nice for them."

Sam turned wide eyes onto Dean who laughed. "She's just screwing with you, Sammy. Carrie will be under the watchful eye of your buddy Zach and I'll keep an eye on Dad. We'll keep those crazy kids apart."

Sam laughed softly. "Call Dad a crazy kid to his face. I dare you."

"Not even a little chance," Dean said.

Jessica giggled and then checked the time. "I should make the calls to the others."

"You want me to look?" Sam asked.

"Not while I have a working cell, no," Jessica said sternly. She picked up her phone from the bedside table and sat up with her legs crossed. Dean turned to Sam as she dialed and said, "You want to eat when she's done?"

Sam shrugged. "Don't you want to wait for Dad to get back?"

"He might be a while. He and Daniel are searching down clues on the Colt."

That was the other sticking point of their plan, along with Lily's unknown location. They hadn't found it yet. Daniel was doing his best, but it meant following lore and vague mentions in hunter history. That was the most important part of the plan though. They could prepare as many of the special children as they could, but if the demon decided to strike, they could only exorcise it and that was basically equal to giving him a vacation. A heavy-hitter like that wasn't going to be constrained by Hell for long.

"We'll wait till Jessica's done then and head out," Sam said.

Jessica was frowning as she held the phone to her ear. "Ava, it's me, call me back when you can," she said and then ended the call. "She's not answering."

Dean glanced at the clock on the wall. "She'll be at work now, won't she?"

"It should be her lunchbreak," she said.

She dialed again and waited for it to be answered. "Mr. Carey? Hi, it's Jess. I was wondering how Scott was doing today." She paused. "He did what? Yeah, yeah, I know. Okay. Let us know if you see him. Call if you need us."

She dropped the phone back to her lap. "Scott's taken off. He was gone when his dad checked on him this morning."

"Scott doesn't leave the house," Sam said.

"I know," Jessica said, looking worried.

"Try Andy," Dean said, picking his own phone up from the table. He stood and walked to the other side of the small room, dialing Caleb's cell. It rang through to voicemail, and he left a message. "Caleb, it's me. Call me when you can."

He set the phone down and turned back to Jessica. "Anything?"

She shook her head. "He's not answering either."

Dean was worried now. It wasn't unknown for Andy to miss a call because he was baked, but Caleb and Ava were almost always available. And Scott _never_ left the house. His Dad provided everything he needed at home."

Sam looked worried, too, and at Dean's reluctant look, he closed his eyes and his expression tensed. He concentrated for a long time, much longer than usual, before he opened his eyes. "I can't see them," he said. "Their doors are just gone. Sarah, Ava, Andy, Weber and Scott are missing. I can see Laura, Daryll, Lily, Karen, and Jake, and nothing seems any different with them." He leapt to his feet.

Dean dialed his father's number quickly, and the moment it was answered, he said, "Dad, you need to come back!"

" _What's happened?"_ John asked. _"Is it Sam?"_

"We can't get hold of everyone. And Sam can't see some of them. The doors are gone."

John cursed. _"I'm coming. Stay inside. Don't let Sam out of your sight!"_

"I won't," Dean said. "Hurry." He set the phone down and looked around the room. "Dad's on his way."

"What's happening, Dean?" Jessica asked.

"I don't know," Dean said.

"What do you think it is?" she pressed.

Dean looked into his brother's eyes, knowing he already knew the answer as well as Dean did. It had started.

Before Dean could formulate an answer for her, his phone rang. He snatched it up and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the caller ID. "Caleb? What's happening?"

" _Sarah's been taken,"_ he said urgently. _"I was knocked out and when I woke up, she was gone."_

"Sophie?" Dean asked, fear squeezing his heart.

" _She's okay. She's here with me."_

"Don't leave her for a moment," Dean commanded. "We're going to figure this out. You keep her safe!"

" _You know it. But, Dean, there was sulfur."_

Dean groaned as his fears were confirmed. "We're on it, Caleb. Just do what you've got to do."

" _I will,"_ Caleb vowed. _"Let me know what's happening when you can._

Dean ended the call and dropped the phone down onto the bed. He raked a hand over his face.

"What is it?" Jessica asked.

"Caleb was knocked out, and when he woke up, Sarah was gone."

"Sophie?" Sam asked, his eyes tight with tension.

"She's okay. She's with Caleb still." He swallowed hard. "There was sulfur though."

Sam nodded. "It's started."

Jessica sucked in a sharp breath and rushed to Sam's side. He wrapped his arms around and kissed her hair. "It's okay," he said. "It's going to be fine." He looked over her shoulder and Dean saw the fear that belied the truth of his feelings.

Dean yanked open the weapons duffel and pulled out the two guns John had decided were right for Sam and Jessica. They were the Glocks they'd practiced with and mastered. He slapped them into their hands and said, "Keep these on you at all times."

"They're not going to be able to hurt a demon, though," Sam said.

Dean knew he was right. It was starting and they still didn't have the weapon they really needed.

* * *

John was scared. He wasn't a man that scared easily, but the fight they'd been preparing for was upon them, and they weren't ready. His son was in danger, and he didn't have everything he needed to protect him yet.

Within minutes of him arriving at the motel, they were back on the road. The safest place for Sam to be was Bobby's house; it was the most protected place they knew. Though when they got him there, John didn't know what to do next. Daniel said he was closing in on something, but would it be in time?

He glanced into the rearview mirror and caught the eye of his youngest son. He was scared, John knew, but he was doing a good job of hiding it for the woman that was huddled at his side. Sam forced a smile for him and John tried to return it.

In all their plotting and preparations, they hadn't ever really made a plan for this, because there was no way to plan for something they didn't understand. The fact the other children were being taken was worrying, but what was more so was the fact that they didn't know what would happen next. Where were they being taken and what was happening to them there?

The thought that they were already dead had occurred to John. Sam said all presence of them was gone. But why would the demon kill them if they were the people he wanted and had waited for all this time? The other possibility was almost worse. They were in Hell. He had no doubt the demon could swing that, and if they were to lead some sort of demon army, what better place for them?

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out quickly and answered. "Bill?"

" _Got your message,_ " Bill said. _"What's going on?"_

"It's started," John said wincing as he heard Jessica's small noise of fear the back seat. "I need you."

" _Where are you?"_

"We're going to Bobby's. We're in Broken Bow now. Daniel and Jim are on their way, too."

" _And Caleb?"_

"He's doing something else for us."

" _Okay, John. We'll get straight there. Do you need us to bring anything?"_

"As many weapons as you can get a hold of."

" _You know if it's demons, none of our usual weapons are going to help that much,"_ Bill said.

"I know it," John said heavily. "But there's nothing I won't try."

" _Okay,"_ Bill said. _"We'll be there before you. Is there anything you want us to do?"_

"Increase the protections as much as you can. Bobby's place is good, but I want it reinforced as much as we possibly can." He was taking the most precious people in his world there and he wanted them safe. "I'll see you soon, Bill."

He ended the call and looked at Dean who was white-knuckling the steering wheel. Dean glanced to him and said, "We need gas."

John could tell Dean was as reluctant to stop as he was. They had no choice though. "We'll stop at the next station," he said.

They came to a gas station another mile down the road, and Dean turned on the blinker and pulled them up beside a pump.

Jessica and Sam climbed out of the back and Jessica murmured something to Sam and then went into the restroom. Sam watched her go with a look of concern. John bent to fill the tank, watching his boys as Dean put his hand on Sam's shoulder and he flinched.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head.

"You're going to be okay, Sammy. We're going to take care of you."

"I know. But… It's just a feeling. I haven't seen anything," he said quickly, "but it feels wrong."

"It would," John said. His son was facing the thing they'd been anticipating for months now, and he was the target. It felt wrong to them all.

"I'm going to pay and get us something to eat. Jess hasn't had anything since breakfast."

"Neither have you," Dean said.

Sam shrugged. "I'm pretty sure anything I put in my stomach is going to come right back up again." He walked into the store and the door swung shut behind him.

Dean looked at John and he communicated his fear with his tight eyes and strained expression.

"I know," John said, straightening and putting the nozzle back onto the pump. He flipped the license plate up and walked toward his son. "He'll feel better when we get to Bobby's. We all will."

Jessica came around the corner of the station and her eyes moved from Dean to John. "Where's Sam?" Her tone was strange. It was measured and missing the fear that had been there for the previous few hours since John had got back to the motel.

"He's gone in to pay and get you something to eat," John said. "Are you okay, Jess?"

"I'm fine," she said in that same strange voice.

Her eyes followed a car as it pulled up behind the Impala and she watched two people climb out. One, a man, began to fill the tank while the other, a young woman, leaned against the side of the car. John felt a prickle on the back of his neck. Something felt wrong.

"Jess, get in the car," he said quietly. "Dean, go get Sam."

Jessica stared at him, but made no move towards the car. "What's wrong?"

"Just get in the car," he said.

He started towards her, seeing Sam through the window at the register. He wanted to get to his son, but he knew he had to make Jessica safe, too. Dean would get his brother. He was probably wrong, jumping at shadows, but he had to be sure.

He tugged on her arm, and then shouted with shock as she grabbed his hand and twisted it behind his back. She had strength she should never have had. He struggled but her hands quickly moved to his head. One gripped his chin and the other the back of his head. He knew with a twist of her hands she would snap his neck. He froze.

"Dad!" Dean shouted. He took one step towards him but the people that had been filling up beside them struck. The man grabbed his arms and held them up his back and the woman pulled the Glock from the back of his pants and held it to his head.

"Don't move," the woman said, her eyes turning onyx black.

John cursed and then his heart failed as the gas station door opened and Sam came out. In his arms were packages of sandwiches and bottles of soda and water. He dropped them as he took in the sight before him, and his eyes fixed on a point just behind John.

"Jess?"

"You know it's not," Jess said. "You know my name, so use it."

"Azazel," Sam said weakly.

John's stomach knotted. The animal that had killed Mary, that had arranged for Dean to be shot and was after Sam, was holding him and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

"You bastard," he spat.

"Language," Azazel said in Jessica's voice. "There are ladies present. Well, there were. She's kinda a passenger right now. But boy can she scream."

Dean's eyes darted between his brother and John, and his face was desperate. He was as helpless as John. The only one of them that was free was Sam, and he wasn't a hunter. He made a hunter's decision though. He pulled his gun from the back of his pants and raised it.

John was pleased, thinking that his son wasn't defenseless now, but then he realized the truth. Bill had said it; guns were no good against a demon.

Azazel laughed. "You think you can hurt me with that? It'll do no good. And I know you wouldn't dare. Not while I'm in this meat suit. Poor sweet, Jess. She's so scared right now. And there's Daddy and Dean, too. One wrong move from you and I'll break Daddy's neck, my sweet Meg will put a bullet in big brother's brain, and then I'll snap Jessica's neck for good measure."

Sam winced and then did something that froze the blood in John's veins. He lifted the gun to his throat and aimed the muzzle up into his chin.

"Sam, no!" Dean cried.

"You want me, don't you?" Sam asked, his voice strong despite his obvious fear. "You let them go or I will pull the trigger. I'll be no good to you dead."

John felt Azazel's exasperated breath on the back of his neck. "You wouldn't do it."

Sam pressed the gun a little further into his chin. "You obviously don't know me."

"Oh, but I do, Sammy. I have watched you since you were a baby. I know all about you. You're no hunter."

"Maybe not," Sam said, his voice constrained by the muzzle pressing hard into his skin. "But there's nothing I wouldn't do for them. You didn't see what Ava saw when you sent Linda. She would have killed me, not Dean, because I would have jumped in the way. You have all the people I love now. What do you think I wouldn't to do save them?"

"Sam," John said, his voice wrecked.

Sam looked into his eyes for a moment and then looked over his shoulder at the demon. "You're here for me, right? It's my turn. Let them go and I will come with you."

"Why should I believe you?" Azazel asked.

"I'll make a deal," Sam said. "You let them go, and I will come with you. People are bound by the deals they make as much as demons, right?"

"Yes," Azazel said speculatively. "Okay. You have a deal. Lower the gun and we'll let Daddy, Dean and sweet Jess go."

"Let them go first," Sam countered.

"You know you can't break a deal, don't you, Sam? You try and the hounds will come. I can't control that."

"I'll keep my word," Sam said.

Azazel slowly lowered his hands from around John and he stumbled forward to his son. Dean was released but he didn't seem able to move. He stood, his eyes wide and wet as he looked at Sam. Behind him, there was a rushing sound and Jessica fell to her knees as the smoke flew out of her. John brought his hands up to Sam's face, gripping his cheeks hard he said, "We'll come for you, understand? Just hold on."

Sam nodded and looked past him to Jessica. "Take care of her."

The demon Meg and the other man braced Sam's arms and they disappeared, the guns dropping to the ground.

"Sam," Jessica whispered behind him. John turned and saw that she was still kneeling. He walked toward her and helped her to her feet. He quickly wrapped her in his arms and soothed her as she began to sob. "Oh God, Sam."

"It's okay," he whispered. "We're going to save him."

Dean appeared at his side, and John was shocked to see his expression was almost blank. His eyes were the only thing that were animated. They blazed with fury.

"We have to go," he said. "Now!"

John released Jessica and led her to the car. She climbed into the backseat and curled into a ball, sobs still breaking from her.

John got in beside her and pulled her against his side as Dean put the car into gear. They roared out of the gas station and onto the road.

John felt Jessica crying against him and he choked down his own need to break. He had to be strong. He'd made Sam a promise to save him, and he was damned well going to follow through.

His boy needed him.

* * *

 **So… It's started. If you've read any of my previous stories, you'll know my usual canon style format for finales—one or two chapters/episodes of climax. This one is going to be different as the rest of the story is spread over 6 chapters and there is an epilogue to follow them. Buckle in and enjoy the ride.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	25. Chapter 25

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing this for me and Gredelina1 for all your help and support. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Twenty-Five**_

Sam's eyes opened and he looked up into a cloudy sky. His head was pounding with pain and when he brought his fingers to his temple as he sat up, he felt stickiness. He winced and looked at the blood on his fingers. Why they had knocked him out he wasn't sure, because he had gone with them willingly enough. At least as willingly as you could when making a demon deal to save the people you loved.

The fear he had felt when he'd seen them all trapped by the demons was still echoing in him. He had turned that gun on himself with every intention of pulling the trigger if he wasn't able to save them. Life without them wasn't something he could endure. He wondered what they were doing now. How long had he been unconscious? Were they at Bobby's, gathered with their friends and plotting a way to save him? They would have to find him first.

He got slowly to his feet, wary of dizziness. It was manageable though and seemed to settle with a few deep breaths. He patted his pockets and found that his cell phone and the knife John insisted he carried were both gone.

He looked around and saw he was in what looked like an abandoned town. He had taken an American history class in college and they'd studied a few old mining towns that had been left to ruin when the gold rush ended. He remembered one in particular, Miner's Delight, in Wyoming, and he guessed he'd been dumped in a similar place.

He wondered what he was doing there. Was this a holding place for him until it was time for the battle? What did that even mean? There was supposed to be a leader, and Sam had been pegged as a favorite by the demon at Bobby's, but how was that to be decided? What ability could he even offer the demons? He just had visions. Admittedly he had good control of them now, but that wasn't an offensive weapon. Scott would be a more obvious choice, or Sarah with her ability to read minds. Even Linda, with her pyrokinesis would have had more to offer than him.

Whatever the reason, he was a part of it now, and he had to do what he could to protect himself from whatever might come. He needed a weapon.

He looked up and down the street of derelict buildings. There was a building with a sign half hanging off that said: "Taylor's Tack."

He walked over and pulled open the door, springing back, startled, when it fell off the hinges. Inside there was a quiet scream. He stepped inside and saw a figure curled into a ball on the floor. He guessed it was a woman from the long blonde hair. Realizing the complication that this woman's presence was—now there were two of them to keep safe—he walked towards her.

"It's okay," he said gently. "I'm not here to hurt you."

She raised her head and looked up at him with fear-filled eyes. Sam recognized her at once. Lily. The instant relief that he'd finally found her was eclipsed by the fact he had found her too late. It was already happening.

He reached for her automatically and she scuttled to the side. "Don't touch me! I'll kill you!"

Sam flinched and took two steps backwards, away from her. "I'm sorry. You don't need to hurt me, though, I'm not a threat."

She laughed, a tone of hysteria in the sound. "You say it like I've got a choice."

Sam thought he understood. He remembered the same fearful reaction Scott had to them. Her living in isolation made sense now, too.

"You can shock people?" he asked. "It's okay. I've met someone else that can do the same."

She shook her head. "I don't shock people. I stop their hearts."

"Oh God," Sam said. "I'm sorry."

She ran a hand through her hair and sniffed. "Yeah. Sorry. That helps. I killed my own girlfriend, but you're sorry, so I'm okay now."

Sam started to apologize again but quickly stopped himself. "Lily? It is Lily, right?"

"How do you know that?"

"My name's Sam. I have a power, too. I have visions. I saw you. My family and I have been searching for you for weeks. You and me, we're not the only ones; there's nine others that we've found. We all have some kind of ability."

She looked doubtful. "Why were you looking for me?"

"Because there is something coming—though I guess it's technically started now—and we wanted you all to be prepared and protected. I could never find you or your cabin."

"Wow, you're serious."

"Yes," Sam said emphatically.

"What is this thing that's coming then?" she asked.

"A war," Sam said. "There are demons and they want us."

"Hello! Is anyone there?" The desperate voice came from outside. Sam moved to the window and saw a man stumbling along the street.

"That a demon?" Lily asked blandly.

"No," Sam said. "It's a friend." He walked out of the building and onto the broken boards that would have made up the porch. "Scott!"

Scott turned, his hands raised and his eyes terrified. "Sam! Oh, thank God, you're here."

Sam walked towards him slowly, stopping a safe distance away. "You're okay," he said gently.

"What's happening?" Scott asked. "I went to bed at home and I woke up in the middle of this place. Where the hell are we?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "But you're okay now, and so's your dad. Jessica spoke to him."

"Has it started?" Scott asked. "Is this it? The war?"

"I think so," Sam said. "I think…" He trailed off as he heard running footsteps. "Get behind me."

Scott hurried to obey and Sam tensed as two figures came around the side of a building. He quickly relaxed. "Over here, guys."

"Sam?" Andy's expression was one of exquisite relief, but Weber still looked afraid as he followed his brother over to Sam.

"Scott, this is Andy and Weber," Sam said. "They're the brothers I told you about."

"You can make people do things with your mind, right?" Scott asked.

"Yeah," Andy said. "But it probably won't work on you. We can't do it on Sam or each other. What did you get?"

"Electric shock touch," Scott said. "I accidentally killed a cat."

"Oh!" Andy's eyes widened. "We'll skip the handshake then if you don't mind."

Scott smiled slightly. "I don't mind."

Sam thought Scott was probably more comfortable here with them than he had ever been at home. He could be open with these people and not feel like the freak. They were all freaks now.

"Have you seen anyone else?" Sam asked.

"We saw a woman and man and heard more voices," Weber said. "That's why we ran."

Sam nodded. He had a feeling that, rather than fleeing from them, they needed to gather these people. He thought that he would know them all, too."

"I'm going to look around," he said. "You stay together. There's a woman called Lily in the store, but give her some space for now, okay? Look for anything you can use as a weapon, but don't attack anyone unless they come at you with black eyes."

"Why not?" Weber asked.

"Because I think that the rest of the people here are like us. I think this is where the demon brought us to prepare."

"For war?" Weber asked.

Sam nodded soberly. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

He walked down the street, past a saloon and general store, and came to a stop as he spotted something. It was an old bell, mounted above a stone plinth. He had seen it before. He couldn't think where, but as he searched his mind, the memory of agonizing pain and Missouri's voice came to him. This was one of the things he'd seen in his onslaught of visions. An old bell in dim light with a tree cast into the metal.

He shook his head again and listened hard for any sign of life from the buildings he passed. He thought he could feel eyes on him and he called out softly. "Hello? I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help." No one appeared though, and he walked around a rickety house and peered around a corner. There were two people standing in the center of the muddy, house-lined street.

He recognized them at once and called out to them. "Daryll! Ava!"

"Sam!" Ava ran at him and threw her arms around him. "You're here!"

Sam patted her back and looked over her shoulder at Daryll. "Hey."

"Don't mind if I don't hug you, do you?" he asked. "Don't really feel like getting an ass-load of memories thrown at me right now."

Sam huffed a laugh. "Not a problem."

He eased Ava away from him and said. "Have you seen anyone else?"

"There were these two men but they ran pretty fast when they saw us," Daryll said.

"That's Andy and Weber," Sam said. "They're okay. They're back there with Scott. There's someone called Lily, too, but I think it's going to take a while to get her out with us. She's got a… well, a pretty terrible ability."

"Yeah? What is it?" Daryll asked.

"She can stop your heart with a touch," Sam said.

"Okay," Daryll said slowly. "No hug for her either."

"Go wait with them," Sam said. "I'll find the others."

Ava and Daryll walked away through an alley. Almost the moment they disappeared from sight, the door of one of the houses creaked open. Sam tried to look calm and unassuming as the man came out. The newcomer wasn't remotely unassuming. Menace radiated from him, and confusion.

"Hello, Jake," he said.

Jake strode towards him, his hands fisted. "You!"

"Sam."

"What the hell is happening?" he asked

"What I tried to warn you about," Sam said.

Jake shook his head. "This has to be some kind of crazy-ass dream. This cannot be happening. I'm dead, right?"

"You think I'd be in your heaven?" Sam asked with a sympathetic smile.

"No, I'm pretty sure this is Hell. One of those Al-Qaeda bastards must have got a lucky bullet in. I didn't feel a thing."

"Try pinching yourself," Sam suggested.

Jake rolled his eyes. "Like I didn't try that already."

"It's real," Sam said. "There are others here, too. Come with me and I'll introduce you."

He turned and walked back to the alley that led to what would once have been Main Street. He knew instinctively that Jake would follow. He was a soldier, a brave man, and would no more cower here alone than Dean or John would. His confidence was confirmed when he heard Jake's footsteps behind him.

Voices reached him before he exited the alley, and he heard his own name being spoken. Eyes snapped to him as he appeared and a woman cried out. "Sam!"

Sarah broke from the group and ran at him, her face streaked with tears. Sam caught her shaking arms and ducked his head to look into her eyes. "She's okay!" he said intensely. "Caleb is staying with her. Sophie is fine." She sagged in his hold and he pulled her against his chest. Smoothing her hair, he whispered, "She's okay. I swear, she's okay."

He saw Jake come to a stop beside him and he said. "Jake, meet Sarah. You think this is hell for you? Sarah has a four-year-old daughter at home."

Sarah pulled away and looked at Jake. "Hello, Jake."

Sam looked past her to the group that had gathered and was pleased but unsurprised that it had grown. Laura and Karen had left their hiding places and joined the others. There was another man there, though. One he had never seen before, in vision or life. He walked forward slowly and eyed him.

"Hello?" he framed it as a question.

The man glanced at Ava who was standing beside him and she said, "Yeah, this is Sam. He's the one I told you about. He's our leader."

The word made Sam nervous. The memory of a demon's words came to him: _"_ _We're going to need a nice stable leader when the time comes."_

Was this what she had meant? Was he leader of the demon army by default as the others had apparently elected him to that post?

"I'm Matthew," the man said. "They told me you can explain what the hell's happening. I was doing the Resurrection Trail in Alaska last night, and then I woke up here. I'm pretty sure I didn't take a wrong turn."

"Alaska?" Jake scoffed. "You think that's bad? I went to sleep in Afghanistan!" He brushed his hand over the front of his jacket, sending a cloud of dust to the ground. "This sand is from the freaking desert!"

Sam watched it drift to the floor and tried to wrap his mind around it. He supposed the demons weren't constrained by distance the way the rest of them were, but it was still crazy.

"What can you do?" he asked Matthew.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I'm pretty strong."

Sam looked at the muscles bunched under the sleeve of his t-shirt. He imagined he was, but he didn't think he meant by conventional levels. "How strong?"

"Crazy strong, right?" Jake asked.

Matthew's eyebrows rose. "You too?"

Jake nodded. "First day at Camp Bastion a guy flipped his jeep. I lifted it off him. They said it was a freak adrenaline thing, but next day…"

"You bench pressed a half ton?" Matthew asked.

"I quit trying at 800lbs," Jake said.

"So, you both have super strength?" Ava said. "That might come in handy."

"Handy for what?" Matthew asked. "I don't understand what's happening."

All eyes seemed to fix on Sam and he fought the urge to squirm. He didn't want to deal with this. He wasn't a hunter. He wasn't really a leader. He'd been elected one though, so he had to suck it up and act like one.

He addressed Matthew, as he was the one that they'd never even tried to give an explanation to. "I have visions. I saw everyone here before I met them—everyone but you. There's going to be some kind of war."

"A demon war," Ava supplied.

"A demon war," Sam agreed. "Me and my family have been tracking everyone I saw to prepare them and to add protection."

"No offence, Sam, but that didn't exactly work out," Andy said. "I woke up and all the traps were broken."

"Mine, too," Weber said. "I saw mine were broken and headed for Andy's room. I had just gotten through the door when I was knocked out."

"I'm sorry," Sam said. "We thought it would help. We wanted to do more than protect you, though. We wanted to prepare you, too. There were two more of us, but they both died. Max let his ability twist him and he used it to murder people. Linda was scared into trying to do the same by the yellow-eyed demon, then she killed herself. The demon is the one orchestrating this. He's the one that wants us here. I saw him when he took me. He possessed my fiancée."

"Jess!" Ava gasped. "Is she okay?"

"She's alive," Sam said. He knew at least that much from the glimpse of her he'd gotten before the demons had taken him. A knife of pain slid into his heart at the thought of the woman he loved and what had happened to her, but he quickly forced it away. He couldn't think about her now, nor Dean or his father. He had to concentrate on the people around him.

"What exactly are we doing here though?" Matthew asked. "Demons are real, sure, but why are they bringing us to frontier town? What are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted. "I just know whatever they're planning is starting now, and we have to protect ourselves."

"No," Jake argued. "We have to leave. There's some woods back there. I figure we get our asses moving and leave. Eventually we'll find a road and from there we can get the hell away from this place."

Sam knew it was probably the most sensible course of action, but it didn't feel right to him. They'd been brought there for a reason. They wouldn't be allowed to leave so easily, would they?"

"I don't know…" he said doubtfully.

"I think he's right," Karen said. "I'm sorry, Sam. I know you're trying to help us, but it didn't work last time. I think we need to help ourselves." She nodded. "I'm coming."

There were murmurs of agreement from the others. Sam, accepting defeat and knowing he couldn't let them walk away on their own, nodded. "Let me just get Lily."

"Who's Lily?" Jake asked.

"She's one of us," Daryll said. "Sam said she can kill with touch though, so maybe give her some space."

Sam walked to the open doorway of the tack shop and knocked on the wall. Lily was standing by the window, looking out.

"Hey," he said. "Did you hear all of that?"

"Yes," she said. "Demons and superpowers and the war. The lot."

"We're leaving," Sam said. "Will you come with us?"

"Figure I've got no choice," she said. "It's join the crazy crew or die here alone."

Sam felt pretty much the same.

He walked back out to the others and Lily followed him slowly. Eyes followed her and she stopped far back from the group. "Lily," she said. "Killer touch. Nice to meet you."

Sarah smiled. "Sarah. Mind reading. Nice to meet you, too."

Some of them glanced nervously at Sarah and she sighed. "It doesn't work on you guys, so you don't need to censor yourselves. In fact, this is the quietest my head's been since this whole thing started. It's kinda nice."

Sam noticed that Matthew looked especially relieved. He supposed after being whammied with the news he'd had the past half hour it was good to have a little privacy to process.

Jake led the way around the buildings and toward the trees. Others followed him and Weber and Andy brought up the rear with Sam and Sarah.

"You really think Caleb can take care of Sophie?" she asked quietly.

"Can and will," Sam said. "Before he even met me, before we knew the real stakes, Caleb signed up to protect me without question. He's a good man."

"I know," she said a little wistfully. "He's been good to us. Sophie loves him."

Sam wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "He'll take care of her until we get you home."

The trees were thick, and sometimes it was hard to see everyone. Sam tried to track them all, keeping a head count, and he noticed when Weber began to lag and massage his temples.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Just a headache," he said. "I think they cracked me a little too hard when they got me." He glanced up at Sam. "Do you think this is going to work? Will we be able to get ourselves out of here?"

"No," Sam said honestly. "I think we were brought here for a reason, and it wasn't so we could escape through the woods."

Weber raised a hand to his temples again and his eyes squeezed shut.

"Hey, you okay?" Andy asked, turning and seeing his brother was no longer at his side.

Weber smiled for him. "It's just a headache. I'll be okay."

They set off walking again and then Sam froze as he heard something echoing through the trees. It was laughter that sounded like it was coming from a child. Terror gripped him suddenly.

"Run!" he shouted, grabbing Sarah's hand and dragging her forward. He wasn't sure what was coming, but he knew that laughter hadn't come from one of them. He hadn't made it more than a few paces before there was a muffled scream. Karen was standing with her back pressed against a tree, her hands covering her mouth. In front of her was the figure of a little girl with dirty blonde hair and a grey ribbon holding it back from her face. She was no human child though. Her fingers were tipped with long claws.

"Karen!" Sam bellowed as he ran forward.

He was too late to help. The child whipped her hand across Karen's neck, slitting her throat, and then disappeared.

"Back to the town!" Jake bellowed.

They all obeyed. Sarah pulled herself from Sam's grip and raced away towards the town. They were all following. Only Sam was trying to get to Karen now, buffeted by them as he pushed through.

He dropped to his knees beside her and pressed his hands to her throat. She was gurgling and her terrified eyes were fixed on him.

"It's okay," he soothed, even though the words were useless. He knew there was nothing he could do for her.

Someone grabbed him from behind and Sam struggled like a wildcat. He was sure his own death was approaching and he wasn't going to give in and let it happen. He had people to fight for.

"We have to go!" Jake said in his ear. "It's too late for her."

Sam tried to pull free, but Jake's enhanced strength was irresistible. He was dragged backwards and through the trees. Sam's eyes were on Karen still, and he saw the last gurgling breath before her chest stilled. He stopped fighting then, knowing she was gone and ran with Jake instead.

When they were out of the trees, Jake released Sam. "I'm sorry, man."

"She died alone!" Sam growled.

"Yes, she did," he agreed. "But if you had stayed with her, that thing could have killed you, too. I don't know you, I don't even like you particularly, but these people trust you and need you. You can't help anyone if you're dead, so I am going to make damn sure you stay alive."

* * *

 **So… Back to Cold Oak and another of the special children gone. Things aren't going to be what they were in canon. There are different heroes and villains this time. Throw some of your theories at me.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	26. Chapter 26

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing this for me. I really appreciate what you do. Thank you Gredelina1 for all your help, and you all for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Twenty-Six**_

John rubbed a hand up Jessica's arm as Dean pulled them onto Bobby's land. "We're here," he said and she sat up.

She had been so quiet on the drive that John had thought she was sleeping, but her eyes were alert and aware as she looked around. He supposed it was probably too much to hope that she would find any kind of rest after everything that happened.

They stopped beside Bobby's Chevelle and climbed out. Daniel pulled up beside them, and John's eyes scanned the other cars parked there, seeing that all his friends had already arrived. Without a backwards glance, Dean strode up the steps and though the door. John followed with Jessica and they walked into Bobby's kitchen. Ellen and Bill were sitting on the couch together, Bobby was at his desk and Jim was at the table. When Daniel entered, he leaned against the counter. There were new traps painted just in front of the door and at the center of the kitchen and a dozen new sigils on the walls.

As they entered, Bill and Jim got to their feet. Jim's eyes moved from John and Jessica to Dean and his brow furrowed. "Where's Sam?"

"Gone," Dean said harshly.

There was a cacophony of questions, but John led Jessica to the couch and saw her settled beside Ellen before explaining. "Azazel came for us. He possessed Jess."

Jessica made a small noise of pain and Ellen curled an arm around her shoulders.

"And he took Sam?" Bobby asked. "How are you even alive?"

"Sam," Dean said bitterly. "He made a deal with him."

Jim gasped. "Sam made a demon deal!"

"Yeah. The deal was that the demons would let us live and he'd willingly go with them."

"How?" Daniel asked. "Demons don't deal for crap like that. Why wouldn't they have just taken Sam and killed you anyway?"

"Sam was pointing a gun at himself at the time," John said. The absolute horror he had managed to force down so far rose in him and he had to fight to hold back a cry. The image of his son with that look of resolution in his eyes as he prepared to shoot, the things he had said to save them, was never going to leave him.

"He did what?" Bobby asked in a hoarse voice.

"He was going to shoot himself," Jessica said quietly, and all eyes moved to her. "I know Sam. He was going to do it." She shuddered.

"He didn't, though," Ellen said reassuringly. "He's okay."

"Is he?" Jessica asked. "He's not here. The demons took him. He's got no weapon. How do we know he's okay?"

Ellen's mouth pressed into a thin line and she didn't answer.

"We have to find him," Jim said.

"How?" Daniel asked. "If the demons took him, he could be anywhere in the world."

Ellen shot him a baleful look and glanced at Jessica who was folded over with her hands over her face. Daniel looked apologetic but the question was still valid. How could they find Sam?

John looked at Dean and saw the barely concealed panic in his eyes, though the lines of his face were hard, not giving away a thing.

"What about the other special children?" Bobby asked. "Have any of them been taken?"

"All of them," John confirmed.

"So he's probably not alone," Jim said with the air of a man clutching at straws.

Dean huffed a mirthless laugh. "No, he's not alone. He with other scared kids that know even less about hunting than he does. All they can do is bless water and make devil's traps. They'd need a rosary and salt to do that, of course, which I'm pretty sure the demons won't leaving lying around." His voice rose to a shout. "They have no weapons to protect themselves, but hell, at least they're together!"

"Dean," John said quietly.

"No!" Dean roared, making Jessica flinch. He grabbed a glass from the drainer and threw it at the wall. It smashed and the pieces fell to the floor, glittering in the light. "He's gone, and you… You're acting like you don't even care! How can you be so calm?"

"Of course I care!" John growled. "I am so damn scared I can hardly breathe. But I have to keep going if I'm going to save him. I know I have let him down, again, and let him be taken from us, _again_ , but letting myself feel that is going to break me all over again, so I can't let myself."

He could feel the need to disconnect as he had so many times over the years Sam was gone. He wanted to drink and blot out the pain. He wanted to cry and wail. But to do that was to serve himself. He had to concentrate on what Sam needed him to be.

Dean sagged. "I know," he said. I'm sorry. But Sam is out there somewhere and I'm scared. He isn't a hunter, Dad and when he tries to be, he gets himself hurt. He doesn't take care of himself."

John knew he was thinking of a lamp cord around Sam's throat. A barred door and Sam trapped inside Jenny's burning house. Ava telling them how Sam would die trying to save Dean. His mind was consumed with the same. If Sam was with the other children, he would fight to save them first. He would do what he could because, though he wasn't an experienced hunter the way they all were, he had a hunter's instinct to protect. It was a dangerous combination.

"Demons," Bill said. "If it's demons that took him and they're all together, there would be a lot of demons there, right?"

"Probably," John said, hating the thought of his son surrounded by those black-eyed bastards.

"Then we have something to look for," Bill said. He took his phone from his pocket and dialed. "Ash? Yeah, we're okay. We need you to do something for us. Look for demon signs. Big ones. Anywhere it looks like they might be gathering."

John's heart raced as he waited for Ash's news. There was silence in the room apart from Jessica's sharply drawn breaths as she cried quietly.

"Yeah?" Bill said. "Really?"

John held his breath hopefully, willing Ash to have answers for them. But then Bill shook his head and his heart sank.

"Call me if anything changes," Bill said. "Keep your ass glued to that spot and stay sober. Yes, I am deadly serious." He snapped his phone closed and said, "There's nothing that looks like it. There's the usual signs spread across the country, but nothing that looks like it's more than one demon in one spot."

Dean cursed. There was a feeling of hopelessness in the air that seemed to swamp John.

"We need a demon to talk," Bobby said thoughtfully. "That's what we spent these past months doing, right? All of us have been questioning them for stuff about this. Why would we stop now? Let's get ourselves one to talk to."

Dean nodded and walked to the door. He looked back over his shoulder and said, "You coming, Dad?"

It was on the tip of John's tongue to say yes, to go, but his eyes fell on Jessica and he knew he needed to stay. Dean was more than capable of dealing with a demon, and Jessica needed him. Sam needed him to stay and watch over her. After what she had been through, she needed to be protected and supported. He wanted to be able to look Sam in the eye when they found him and say that he had done what Sam would want him to do.

He shook his head. "Bill, you mind?"

"Not at all," Bill said. He smiled at Ellen and then walked out of the door after Dean. John sat down beside Jessica and she quickly leaned against his shoulder. John smoothed her hair back and spoke softly, "It's going to be okay, Jess. We're going to find him."

He hoped.

* * *

They were all shell-shocked after Karen's death. The sight of what had happened to her seemed to make them all realize just how much danger they were in. They all knew about the war in theory, but now it seemed very real and immediate.

No one spoke of leaving again, which Sam was relieved for as he was sure that, if they tried, they would be picked off one by one. To keep them occupied, he created make-work tasks for them. He sent groups out to find water, food if they could, salt and anything to use as a weapon. Lily was the only one that didn't join them. Sam knew she was already a wreck after living in isolation for so long, and the fear of the others being close to her compounded it. Sam understood it, but he couldn't bear to see her sitting in the corner alone, so he tried to engage her. She gave only monosyllabic answers and her discomfort was obvious enough that he eventually left her alone. He occupied himself with preparing the schoolhouse he'd chosen to shelter them in, pushing the desks against the walls to give them room.

"Look what I found," Jake said from the open door. He held up a hunting knife, pitted with rust.

"Is it sharp?" Sam asked.

"It is now," he said. "I've given it a good going over with a stone. I think that with enough force behind it, it could do some serious damage."

"Good," Sam said. "When the others get back, I'll have Andy and Weber use it to carve us some traps." He remembered that they had been particularly adept at the traps when they'd been teaching them protection.

"These are the traps that were broken when the others were snatched, right?"

Sam sighed. "Yes. It's all I can think of to do though. We've got no way to make holy water."

Jake raised an eyebrow. "That's a thing, too?"

"It burns demons like acid. It wouldn't kill them, but maybe it would have held them off for a while."

"When do you think they'll come?" Jake asked.

"I don't know. I'm assuming that by keeping us here, they're buying themselves some time, but I don't know what for. I wish I did."

"Do you? Don't you think it'd be harder for to cope if you knew what was coming for us?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe. I knew what was coming from my visions before, and I was scared, but I at least could prepare. One time my visions spiraled out of control. I had so many and they hurt like I can't even describe, but I felt better when it was over as I had seen everyone; I could help them."

"Have you had any visions since you got here?"

Sam shook his head. "The doors they lay behind are all gone. It's like they were never there. I wish I had though. Maybe I could see my family."

"That man that was in the bar with you?"

"My dad," Sam said with a small smile. "He and my brother are what they call hunters. They're heroes. They save lives all the time. They're going to save us; I know it. We just have to hang on until they get here."

"You really believe that?"

"I do," Sam said. "They won't let me down."

There was movement at the window and Ava and Daryll came in. In Daryll's hands was what looked like a fireplace poker. "Lookie what I found," he said with a smug look.

"That's awesome," Sam said. "You can hurt demons with iron," he added for Jake's benefit. "Well done, guys."

Ava looked pleased and Daryll shrugged. "It wasn't like it was that hard, to be honest. The stuff here is so full of memory it pretty much shouts at me."

"Sam!" a voice called outside. It didn't sound worried, more excited, so Sam didn't panic as he followed it.

Laura and Sarah were in the housing area behind Main Street and they had a bucket of water.

"We found a well," Sarah said. "So that's dehydration off the table at least."

"Great," Sam said. "There's tin cups in some of the desks. Get everyone set up with a drink. I'll find the others and send them back."

Sarah and Laura walked back to the schoolhouse with a spring in their steps. Sam was pleased that his plan to occupy them was working. They felt like they were helping themselves, taking control.

Andy and Weber were leaning against a wall at the side of the school house. Weber had his fingers pressed to his temples again and his face was pained. Sam jogged over to them.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"It's his head again," Andy said, his face creased with worry. "They must have done some damage when they knocked him out."

Sam frowned. There was nothing he could do to help Weber until he could get them out of there. All he could do was distract him. He felt almost cruel as he said, "You can handle it, Weber."

Weber nodded. "I know."

"Good. Now, Jake has found a knife, so I need you two to carve traps in the schoolhouse. Put them in the doorways and center of the room. If there's room, put in more. Can you do that?"

Andy looked shocked at Sam's hard tone, but he nodded, too. "Yeah. I'll do it."

Sam nodded, satisfied and watched Andy take his brother's arm and tug him away. Weber allowed himself to be led away and Sam carried on around the corner. He saw Scott standing off to one side outside a house. He looked thoughtful as he stared into the woods.

"Scott," Sam called.

When Scott looked at him he saw tears in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked.

"Karen," Scott said.

Sam nodded. He was feeling the weight of her death, too.

"Since I discovered this 'ability' I have been so careful not to hurt anyone," Scott said. "Then I came here and I thought I was finally okay. We were all together and since the other's powers don't work on each other, maybe mine wouldn't either. I thought I was finally safe to be around. But then she died."

"That wasn't your fault," Sam said.

"I was close to her though," Scott said. "That thing, the child, was between us, and it went for Karen. I can't help but think I could have saved her somehow. Maybe I could have killed it."

"It wasn't human," Sam said. "I don't know what it was, but I don't think you could have even hurt it, let alone killed it. It's just survivor's guilt. I understand it. Since this started I have lost a good friend to the demons, and I have seen two of us kill themselves. I was there each time, and I couldn't save any of them. Rick, my friend, was the worst, because the demon snapped his neck in front of me to stop me exorcising it. For a time, I was consumed by that. I learned that I couldn't let it stop me though. They're gone and they can never come back, so we have to make what happened to them count for something. For Rick, I am doing that by helping people in his name. For Max and Linda, I am going to survive this and make sure the rest of us do, too."

"I believe you," Scott said. "Thank you, Sam. I don't know what we'd do without you."

Sam understood. He didn't know what he'd do without them. If he had been here alone, he thought perhaps he would have just hidden and waited for John and Dean to save him. With his appointment as leader, he was forced to do something to help the others cope, and that was better for him.

They walked back to the schoolhouse together. Sam heard the voices before he reached them and he frowned. It sounded like an argument. He hurried his steps and saw Andy and Weber on their knees in the middle of the room. In each of their hands was one of the sharp stones that they were using to sketch in the devil's trap on the floor before carving it.

"That's not right," Ava was saying. "The squiggle under that bit is longer."

Sam cleared his throat and they turned to look at him.

"Sam, tell them," Ava said. "It's got to be longer."

Sam peered down at the scratches in the floorboards and brought the image to mind of the trap he'd painted into these people's homes more times that he could remember. "It looks fine," he said. "Just make sure the outer circle is as perfect as you can make it."

Andy looked pleased as he went back to work. Sam looked around and spotted the missing person among their number at once. The corner where Lily had been sitting was empty.

"Jake," he said quietly and tipped his head toward the door before he walked outside. He didn't want to panic the others.

"What?" Jake asked when they were a safe distance from the others.

"Lily is gone."

"Damn. You think she tried to escape through the woods again?"

"I hope not," Sam said. "Help me look for her. Don't get too close if you find her, and don't make too much noise. I don't want everyone freaking out."

Jake nodded. "Sure."

"And, Jake," Sam said as he started to walk away, "don't go into the woods."

"Not a chance," Jake said.

Sam took off down the street, peering through doors and windows of the buildings he was passing. There was no sign of her though. He was staring to really worry that she'd gone into the woods when he heard footsteps behind him. He spun on his heel and his relived smile faded as he saw Jake's stony expression. "You found her?" he asked.

"Yeah."

Jake walked through an alley and Sam followed him. There was a high water tower at the edge of the woods, and Sam's breath whooshed out of him as he saw the figure on it. Lily was hanging from it with a noose around her horribly stretched neck.

"No," he moaned.

Jake put a hand on his shoulder.

"I was supposed to protect her," Sam said.

"She was already too damaged. There was no saving her. It's not your fault."

Sam raked a hand over his face. "We have to get her down. I don't want the others seeing her like that. They're already scared enough."

"We all are," Jake said heavily. "Let's get her down."

* * *

 **So… There goes another one. Poor Lily. She may have been damaged, but she was an innocent, too.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	27. Chapter 27

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for the fab beta job. You're awesome. Thank you also Gredelina1 for all your help. Thank you all for reading, reviewing and supporting the story xxx**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Twenty-Seven**_

Sam's arms were aching and his fingers were blistered. Daryll had found a shovel for him, and he had gone alone to bury Lily at the edge of the trees. It had taken hours, night had well and truly fallen before he finished, and he was exhausted. He wished he could go and get Karen's body, too, but they had all promised to stay out of the woods. When it was over, when John and Dean got here, he swore to himself that he would see her laid to rest, too.

He was sitting in the schoolhouse, leaning his back against the wall and watching the others sleep. Daryll and Sarah had found some old, roughly woven blankets in some of the houses, and those of them that hadn't come with warmer clothes or jackets were huddled under them. It was cold, and the wooden walls of the building didn't give much protection.

Jake was sitting in the doorway, the knife in his hand and poker at his side. He was taking the first watch. Sam knew he should sleep, as he'd volunteered to take the shift in the early hours when it was hardest to stay awake, but he couldn't relax, so he concentrated on resting his body instead.

Andy jerked awake suddenly and looked around. He caught Sam's eye and sat up. He glanced at his sleeping brother and then crept across the room to Sam. He sat beside him, his back against the wall and said in a whisper, "You okay?"

"Yeah," Sam said reassuringly. "I'm fine." He wouldn't allow himself the comfort of honesty as he had a part to play. "You?"

"Really not," Andy said, his eyes falling on his brother.

"You're worried about Weber," he said.

Andy nodded. "These headaches seem pretty bad. We all got clocked when they came for us, but nobody else's injuries seem to be affecting them as much as his. Hell, we don't even have Tylenol here."

"Nope," Sam agreed. "Doesn't look like they left any good painkillers, or even any mediocre ones, when they cleared out of town."

"Why do you think they left?" Andy asked.

Sam shrugged. "Failed mine maybe? There's a bunch of towns like this all over the country."

"That's assuming we're still in America," Andy said.

That idea hadn't occurred to Sam. A chill of fear rippled through him. He was banking on his family to save them, but that required them to be able to find them and get there.

"It looks American," he said.

"So does Canada."

Sam laughed quietly. "I wouldn't know. I've never been."

"Me either. When this is over, we'll make a road trip. I hear they have good weed."

"Maybe next summer," Sam said. "I've got some big stuff going on before then."

"Yeah, that's right," Andy said. "You're getting married, right? When's the big day?"

"In about a month," Sam said with a smile. "You want to come?"

Andy chuckled. "That depends. Are the bridesmaids hot?"

"They're mostly Jessica's sisters, so yes, they're beautiful. I wouldn't advise trying anything though, as they're also spitfires." He sighed. The wedding, which had become an event that loomed over them, suddenly seemed a long distance away from him in this small abandoned town. "We're starting law school after the wedding, too. You ever think about college, Andy? I saw the books in your van. That's some pretty heavy literature."

"I thought about it," Andy said. "And I mean this in the least lazy way possible, but I think college sounds like too much hard work. I like the real world more."

"And yet you spend half of your time stoned."

Andy shrugged. "I like life with the edge taken off. You should try it. I'll come to your wedding, and you come to my van. Which, now that I hear myself say it, sounds a little creepy."

"Just a little," Sam agreed. "I'll pass thanks."

"Seriously though," Andy said. "I thought about college, but, nah. Weber isn't interested, and I like what we're building right now."

"You really care about him."

"He's my brother. You know what that feels like, right?"

"More than you know," Sam said. "I was kidnapped when I was a child, taken away from Dean and my dad, and I didn't see them again till last year.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. So I know exactly how it feels to suddenly find a family."

"I'd do anything for him," Andy said, sounding embarrassed by the admission.

"Yeah," Sam said. "I know that feeling, too." He remembered the day he met Ava and the story she'd told them of the vision in which Sam died to save Dean. Her story had been immediately believable to him because he would do _anything_ to save his brother.

Andy stared at him for a moment and then said, "You really do, don't you?"

Sam nodded.

Andy yawned and Sam said, "You might as well get some more sleep. You and Weber have last shift, right?"

"Yeah. Wake me if you need me." Andy went back to the spot beside his brother and lay down again. His breathing soon became the even sighs of sleep, and Sam tipped his head back against the wall. He wasn't aware of it, but his eyes slid closed and he drifted into sleep.

* * *

The demon was standing in the doorway, his yellow eyes alight with malice.

It was happening!

Sam lurched to his feet and rushed forward to step in front of Jake. Jake's eyes were fixed on the distance, and he didn't seem to even notice Sam. He was turning the knife in his hands. Sam knew that, as a soldier, Jake's senses were probably sharper than any of theirs, and so the first inklings of suspicion came to him. This wasn't real.

"I'm dreaming."

"Ten points to contestant number one," Azazel said.

Sam was relieved. A dream was fine. He could handle that. It was the demon striking at last against them all that he wasn't ready to deal with.

He walked forward. "What do you want?"

"A chat. Seems to me it's time. You've had a chance to talk to everyone but me now, and you and I have the most to talk about, don't you think?" He turned away and waited for Sam to follow before setting off along the street. "I'm disappointed in you, Sam. I thought you at least would understand what's happening here."

"I understand plenty," Sam said harshly.

Azazel grunted a laugh. "You really don't. You will though. I figure you just need some pointers. You're the one that I want, see. You come from good stock. You have the potential. I like you even."

Sam glared at him. "Screw you."

"They all thought I was losing my touch, banking on you so much," he said. "Even my sweet Meg didn't understand. But I _knew_ , given the right motivation, you'd come around. And I was right. You ran into the building to save the bitch and her brats like a proper hunter. It showed your mettle. It brought the others around to my way of thinking. Made you the top candidate for the job."

"To be the leader of your _army_ ," Sam said scathingly.

"Exactly. You're right up there. Of course, there's someone ahead of you at the moment, but I think once you've seen what I've got to show you, you'll take him out quite happily."

"Take who out?" Sam asked.

"You'll see," he said happily. "We're almost there."

They walked on toward the woods. Despite the fact Sam knew it was a dream, he was nervous to enter them again.

"Don't panic," Azazel said. "We're not going in."

"What was that thing anyway?" Sam asked.

"Acheri demon," Azazel said lazily. "Fast with their claws but not the best thinkers. They're very easily controlled. You should ask your buddy about that."

"What buddy?" Sam asked.

Azazel tutted. "I'll let you figure that part out yourself. Can't give you all the answers. You need to put in a little effort at least. I'll give you a tip though, in here."

He came to a stop outside an old barn and waved a hand expansively in the direction of the door. With a distrustful look, Sam pulled the large door open and entered. A wave of foreboding settled over him. He knew in his gut that he didn't want to be here.

"Not nice, is it?" Azazel said conversationally. "Have a good look. Take it all in."

There was a hole in front of him. Sam walked forward slowly and peered down into it. It wasn't a hole; it was a pit, and it was full of bodies. Men and women in various states of decomposition were piled haphazardly on top of each other. He had never seen something so horrific.

The bodies on the top were the least decomposed and Sam was able to see two women and a man. They looked around Sam's age. Both women had gaping holes in their chests and the man had an injury Sam had seen inflicted once before with disastrous consequences: his neck had been broken.

Azazel looked down at the women pitilessly. "Amazing what a fist can do with enough strength behind it, isn't it?"

Sam flinched. He understood what he was being shown, but his mind rebelled against it.

"Someone did this?" he said.

"You know the answer already, just as you know _who_ did it."

"Why would he?"

Azazel rubbed his hands together and flashed a proud smile in Sam's direction. "Now you're asking the right questions. There used to be a lot more of you special ones. See, Sam, you're not here for a team building vacation. You're here for war. Every war has a victor, doesn't it? I need that victor to lead. Lead properly, not to dish out the make-work and moral support you've been occupied with. So far there's a strong contender, but I don't like him. He's a little unstable to be honest. Not got his head on right the way you have. Which is why I'm showing you this." He waved a hand at the carnage in the pit. "I want you motivated for the kill."

Sam took a horrified step back. "I'm not killing anyone!"

"How little you know, Sam. You will kill him, and then you'll move onto the others. You will be knee deep in their blood before the end."

"What makes you think I would _ever_ hurt anyone?" Sam asked.

"Because you love, Sam. Daddy, big brother, sweet Jessica; you want to get back to them. You'd do _anything_ for them."

"I won't kill," Sam said doggedly.

Azazel sighed. "Your delusion is so great, Sam, it would be entertaining if it wasn't so pathetic. You will kill. If you don't, he will kill you. You'll end up in this pit, and your family will never have closure."

Sam fought back a shudder. He couldn't let that happen, but he couldn't become a murderer either. He had to stop Matthew not kill him. He felt a ringing in his ears and was relieved that the scene around him started to dissolve.

"Oh dear," Azazel said. "Seems like someone is waking up. You go do what you've got to do, Sam. Take care of the rest for me. See you real soon."

* * *

Sam's eyes dragged open and he saw he was back in the school house. The others were still sleeping around him. He glanced to Jake. His first thought was that the soldier had fallen asleep at his post, but then he saw the lump on his temple.

He scrambled towards him and said his name loudly. Sleepy voices spoke behind him and people asked questions, but he was occupied with trying to rouse Jake. He could feel the thrum of life when he pressed his fingers to his throat, but it took a hard pinch to Jake's earlobe to wake him.

"What…?" he said sluggishly.

"Jake, look at me!" Sam said harshly.

It took several disconcerting moments for Jake's eyes to fix on him. "He took the knife," he said drowsily.

"Matthew?" Sam asked.

"Yeah?" Jake phrased his answer as a question, still looking a bit groggy.

"He's gone!" Ava said.

"Anyone else?" Sam said, turning and doing a headcount. They were all there apart from Matthew.

"Why would he attack Jake?" Scott asked nervously.

"I don't know," Sam said half-truthfully. "Ava, come help Jake. I'll go look for him."

"I should come with you," Jake said, struggling upright.

"No! You can't even see straight yet. You stay here and take care of yourself!" Sam ordered. "Andy, come with me."

Weber grabbed his arm but Andy spoke gently and removed it then came to Sam. Sam stood and led Andy out the door.

"Not that I'm unwilling, though I am obviously terrified, but what do you want me for?" Andy asked.

"Because I trust you, and I think you're the only one of us with a chance at stopping him," Sam said.

"You know my gift doesn't work on you guys, right?"

"I know," Sam said. "But I'm hoping if you really throw it at him hard, it might."

He thought he knew where Matthew was going, though he didn't understand why he would without a body to add to the pile. He led Andy to the barn, each step seeming to make his heart race harder. When they were close, Sam drew a deep breath and said. "This isn't going to be pretty Andy. You might want hold your breath."

He opened the door and retched as the stench rolled over him. It was the worst thing Sam had ever smelt. Andy clapped a hand over his mouth as his eyes began to water. Sam walked inside and saw over the lip of the pit that the bodies he had seen in his dream were there, but there was a new one in the barn now, too.

Slumped against the wall on the other side of the barn was Matthew. At either side of him were pools of blood where his hands hung. There were deep gashes in his wrists. He was obviously dead.

Sam walked towards him, disgust roiling in his gut, and picked up the knife that sat in his lap. The blade was drenched in blood. Sam wiped it on the leg of Matthew's jeans and turned away from him. He brushed past Andy and went out into the fresh air again.

"Sam?" Andy said behind him. "Shouldn't we do something?"

"There's nothing to do. He's already dead," Sam said dully.

"Shouldn't we bury him?" Andy said.

Sam turned to him. "Look at those bodies in there, Andy. They were murdered by someone with immense strength. It wasn't Jake. He just got there."

"Matthew killed them?"

Sam nodded. "I never saw him in my visions. I saw all of you but not him. He hasn't just arrived. He's been here a while. Those people were like us, special, and he killed them. He's been fighting this war a lot longer than we have."

"Why did he kill himself though?"

"We'll never know for sure, but I hope it's because he chose to stop following the demon's orders and save himself."

He remembered what Dean had told him after Linda had killed herself. She had done it to save herself from something worse. Had the demon shown Matthew what was coming for him? Had he been scared into it because he wasn't the victor the demon wanted?

Or was Sam wrong? Was there still something happening that he didn't know?

"How is dying saving himself?" Andy asked.

Sam thought of how he had felt when he'd had that vision dream of Jessica dying. He had been frozen on that bed, watching her die, and he hadn't wanted to move. "There are worse things than death," he said. "Come on. We better get back to the others. They'll be scared."

Though perhaps not as scared as they would be when Sam told them what he'd seen.

* * *

Dean held the flask over the demon's head and tilted it. The holy water hissed and smoke rose as it dripped from the already drenched long red hair to the floor.

The demon was in the meatsuit of a young woman, probably around Dean's age. She had a softness that made Dean think maybe she had been a mom. He thought it would be good to get this woman free of the demon and home again if she lived after the exorcism. He couldn't do that until he had the information he needed though.

"Where's my brother?" he asked again as he pulled the flask back.

The demon panted through the pain and fixed her red eyes on Dean. "I don't know."

Dean raised the flask threateningly and she winced.

"I don't know," she repeated desperately. "I was never a part of that scheme. I'm in sales. That's all. It's Meg and Tom that you want."

The woman that had held the gun to him at the gas station had been called Meg, he remembered. Was the man Tom?

"Who are they?" he asked.

"They're Azazel's lieutenants. His children. They are the ones he talks to most. They're all about the special ones. Not us. He doesn't have anything to do with the crossroads."

Dean closed his eyes, disappointed. He had very little chance of tracking the woman or man that had taken Sam. He'd be lucky if they were still even in the same meatsuits now. But without them, how were they going to find where Sam had been taken? It had been hours now, hours spent traveling, searching for a demon and trying to break it, and Sam was going through who knew what without them. They had to save him.

Dean had never felt so useless. He should have trained Sam in more than self-protection from demons. He should have taught him to fight, too. He had been so consumed with Sam not becoming a hunter, living his normal life, that he'd missed the chance to have him ready for the fight they'd known was coming. The attempts to find all the special children and save them seemed laughable now. Sam had wanted to save them all, when what they should have been doing was training him to save himself.

He stared into the demon's eyes. "You really don't know?"

"I really don't."

Dean bent and picked up the bucket of holy water from at his feet. He upended it over her head and she screamed. "I was telling the truth!"

"I believe you," Dean said. He dropped the bucket and it clattered to the floor. With the demon's howls still ringing in his ears, he plodded up the stairs and back into the library.

All eyes followed him as he entered, and Jessica asked hopefully, "Did you find out where they took him?"

Dean shook his head. "She didn't know. She said the only ones that would are the two that had me at the gas station."

"How do we find them?" she asked desperately.

"I don't know," Dean said gently.

"Then what do we do?" she asked getting to her feet. "How can we get him back if we can't find him?"

Ellen stood and placed a hand on Jessica's arm. "We try something else."

"What?" Jessica asked.

No one had an answer for her. Dean searched his mind for any clue as to what they could do next. He had been banking on a demon, but unless the demon in the basement was lying, and he didn't think she was, that wasn't going to work.

"Missouri!" he said with sudden inspiration.

"You think a psychic can find him?" Bobby asked doubtfully.

"I think the spirits might be able to," Dean said. "What have we got to lose? She's got a hotline to the dead. Maybe they know something." His phone was already in his hand and he was dialing before anyone could formulate a response for him.

Missouri answered after a few rings. _"Dean? How's it going, honey?"_

Dean launched into an explanation. "It's started. Sam's been taken. And all the others, too. We don't know where he is or what's happening to him, but it's been hours. We need your help. Can you talk to the spirits, see if they know anything? We're desperate, Missouri."

" _Why didn't you call me sooner?"_

"Uh, because my brother was kidnapped by demons, and I was busy trying to find where they took him! Can you help us or not?" he snapped.

" _Yes, but you can help, too. I'll pull out the board and talk my way through as many as I can find, but you already have a clue, Dean. You're forgetting, I saw what Sam saw when the visions were overloading him. Every part of it was one of their faces, their lives, apart from that bell. It has to be important."_

"Yes!" Dean hissed. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before. "What did it look like?"

" _It's old, very old, and it's hung over a stone plinth like a well. There's a tree cast into it. An oak tree."_

"Oak tree," Dean said.

Bobby's head snapped up. "Oak?"

"On a bell," Dean said. "It's something to do with where Sam is."

Bobby's eyes widened. "I know where he is."

"Where?" Dean asked, the phone dropping from his nerveless fingers.

"Cold Oak," Bobby said. "It's on the other side of the state."

Dean turned to his father, expecting to see a triumphant smile that they had a location at least, but John was pale and his eyes wide.

"What?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

"Cold Oak," John said. "It's a haunted town. It was so bad every resident fled about a century ago."

"Ghosts?" Jessica said weakly. "Sam's never faced a ghost before. He won't know what to do."

"I know," John said heavily.

"So we have to get there," Dean said urgently.

He grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair and ran out of the door. He threw himself in behind the wheel of the Impala and brought the engine to life. The others were spilling out of the door and into their cars, too. John and Jessica climbed in, and Dean slammed the car into reverse and pulled away from the house.

"Where am I heading, Dad?" he asked.

"Get on the I-90."

Dean nodded curtly and turned left onto Bobby's road. His heart was racing in his chest. He wasn't sure if it was from fear or excitement at the breakthrough.

The one thing he knew for sure was that they finally had a location for Sam. They just had to get there now.

* * *

 **So… They know where they're heading. It should be easy now, right? All those hunters coming to the rescue and all will be good in the world… Admit it, you'd be disappointed if it was that easy.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	28. Chapter 28

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing this for me and forgiving me—as always—for what I do to our beloved characters. Thank you Gredelina1 for all your support and help. Thank you all for reading and reviewing xxx**

 **It's Thursday. It's warm. Jenjoremy has steamed through the edits and I'm in a good mood, so I am going to update early. I'm nice like that ;-)**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Twenty-Eight**_

They were all gathered in the schoolhouse. Sam was standing by the door and Andy had rejoined Weber. Jake was sitting on the floor resting his head against the wall, but his eyes were clear now. All eyes were fixed on Sam again, but this time he felt reassured by their attention instead of wanting to squirm. They were trusting him, and he needed that to get them all through this.

"Matthew is dead," he said. He allowed a moment for them to vocalize their shock and fear and then raised his voice. "He killed himself. Before he did that, he killed a lot of other people. There is a barn with a pit inside that is full of bodies, people like us that were murdered. They had all been killed by someone with immense strength."

Scott's fearful eyes fell on Jake and he raised his hands. "Nothing to do with me."

"It wasn't," Sam said. "Jake got here with the rest of us, and these people had been dead a while. I thought we were it, that by seeing you I was seeing all of the special children. I was wrong. I wasn't seeing everyone like us. I didn't see Matthew because he was a part of a different group. I think he was here a long time, killing everyone he was pitted against."

"Why though?" Sarah asked.

"Because that is why we're here. This is the start of the war—the war we're supposed to fight against each other. The demon wants a victor, one of us to win by destroying the others one by one. We _cannot_ give him what he wants. Not one more of us can become a murderer. All we can do is stop. We have the control here; the demon can't force us to do anything. We need to be strong and wait for help to come to us."

"Who's coming though?" Laura asked.

"My family and friends. Most of you met my dad and my brother. They are hunters—but not the traditional kind. They protect people from things like this. They have friends that do the same. My dad promised he'd come for me, and when he does, he'll save us all."

"You really believe that?" Scott asked.

"Yes," Sam said confidently. "They won't let me down. We just have to hold on until they get here, taking care of each other."

"But Matthew didn't kill any of us," Weber said. "He hurt Jake, but he didn't kill him. You said he killed himself instead. What made him do that?"

Andy's eyes fell on Sam and he nodded in return.

"Sam said he was saving himself from something worse." Andy said.

"I've seen it before," Sam said. "So has Ava. There was a woman called Linda who was one of us. She was given a… task by the demon, and when she failed, when we stopped her and tried to help, she saw something that scared her enough to make her run into oncoming traffic. She killed herself to avoid the fate the demon had for her."

"And Lily?" Weber said.

"She was already emotionally damaged by her so-called ability," Jake said.

"But what if that's what the demon is doing?" Weber asked desperately. "What if the demon is going to target us one by one until we kill ourselves? The victor might be the one strong enough to survive what he shows us!"

Sam knew that wasn't true as the demon was banking on him to kill the others, not themselves. He couldn't tell them that though. He needed them to keep trusting him so he could get them out alive.

"It's not," he said.

"How do you know, though?" Weber asked, clearly on the edge of panic. "How do you know any of this?"

"Because I spoke to the demon."

There were gasps of shock and he went on before they could start asking questions.

"He came to me in last night in a dream. He showed me the pit of bodies and said enough for me to know that it was Matthew. He said that there were more of us and that was what had happened to them. He told me about the prize fight. His intention was to scare me enough that I would break and hurt you. He failed," he said firmly. "I would no more hurt one of you than I would Jess. I'm not a murderer. Since I realized my visions were real, I have fought to save lives and help people. I was a normal college kid thrown into this, but I have done my best to rise to this challenge. I saved a woman and her kids. I tried to save others, too. I didn't always win; sometimes the demons did. They killed my friend, but I didn't stop. You all have to fight, too. You know each other now. None of you would hurt someone else willingly, so you have to hold to that, fight for it. Understand?"

They all glanced at one another and slowly nodded. Sam searched each face for a sign of hesitation, but there was none. They were agreed. Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

"Now, no one is to go anywhere alone again. If you need water, you go as a pair at least. If you need the bathroom, if you need to get out of this place for _any_ reason, make sure someone goes with you. Try to stay in here though. We're safest together. Do _not_ go into the woods. If there's one reason the demon will hurt us, it's because we try to leave. That's why Karen was killed. We have lost too many. Don't let there be more."

The demon had said the Acheri was easily controlled and he should ask his 'buddy'. The only two there that were capable of controlling someone else were Andy and Weber, and it couldn't be either of them. Andy was a good man, he would never hurt anyone, and Weber was too terrified to be the culprit. He believed it had been Azazel's attempt to start him on the path he wanted him to follow, trying to make him doubt his friends.

None of them would hurt him or each other. He was sure of it.

* * *

The sun was coming up on their second day in the town, and Jake and Sam were standing outside the schoolhouse. They could hear the murmuring voices of the others inside.

Jake was turning the knife over in his hands, looking thoughtful. "I appreciate what you're doing, Sam. It can't be easy for you staying so calm on the outside when you're just as scared as the rest of us."

"Is it that obvious?" Sam asked.

"Only because I know people. You have to learn that in basic. You have to anticipate what others are going to do by their body language as much as their words."

Sam nodded. "My dad and brother do that. They've been fighting together, working closely together, for so long that they seem to know what the other is thinking. I don't know if they're even aware of it. They have whole conversations without a word. It's kinda strange to watch."

"You have that, too?"

"Not with them, no. I haven't been with them long enough. Me and Jess, my fiancée, do in a way. She always knows when I am trying to hide something, and I can tell when she's got something on her mind, even when she's trying to hide it."

"Must be nice to have someone like that," Jake said.

"Not you?" Sam asked.

"Nah. I had a girlfriend but she didn't want me to join up. It ended pretty bad when I did it anyway."

"Why did you join up?" Sam asked.

"I wanted to help people," Jake said. "It felt right." He sighed. "I guess that's all over now. There's no explaining how I ended up here."

Sam nodded. "What do you think will happen?"

Jake shrugged. "They'll think I left base and was killed or kidnapped. It happens out there a lot. Not just people being killed; those bastards like a Western bargaining chip."

Sam had seen the news reports of the victims of the kidnappings. They were given horrific deaths that were televised and posted online for other twisted minds to enjoy. His kidnapping, as devastating as it had been, was a blessing in comparison.

"I'm sorry, man."

"It's better if they think I'm dead," Jake said decisively. "They won't be looking for me that way. I'll be able to tell my family the truth eventually and then start over somehow. I'll miss it though."

"You got much family?" Sam asked.

"It's just me, my mom, and my kid sister." He smiled fondly. "Rachel. She's only eight. She's the best thing in my world. I hate that I'm going to disappoint her. She was so excited the first time she saw me in uniform." He plucked at the front of his jacket. "She told all her friends I was going to save America from the bad guys."

Sam smiled suddenly. "You can still do that!"

"You think I should join the Air Force instead?" Jake quipped. "I think they'd notice, Sam."

"No, I mean you can help people. I told you, that's what my dad and brother do. There's a bunch of them. There's more than just demons out there, Jake, there's all kinds of crap. I mean it's not like you get paid, apparently they fund themselves with credit card fraud, but they save lives. They can help you get started, I'm sure. Then Rachel can still be proud."

"You think?" Jake asked.

"Why not?" Sam said. "It'd be great. You'll have a one-up on the rest of the hunters, and on the monsters, with your super strength. You'll kick ass. Just say the word and I'll talk to them. They or one of their friends can help you start out. That's what my dad did. He didn't know anything about that side of the world until my mom was killed. When he found out, he learned what he could and others taught him the rest. He started from nothing, with no superpowers. You already have a head start."

Jake nodded. "I'd like that I think. Thanks, Sam. I woke up this morning thinking I was going to spend the rest of my life with regrets, but you've really given me something to think about. I'd like to use this… power… to help people."

"And you will. We'll get you all out of here, and you'll be amazing."

Jake smiled at him. "You're a good man, you know that?"

Sam ducked his head, embarrassed. "There's better out there."

"I find that hard to believe."

Sam turned away and waited for the heat to leave his cheeks. He liked Jake. He was a good man, too. The perfect one to have in this situation. He was level headed and brave, and he understood what he had to do for the others.

"Sam?" Andy said behind him.

Sam turned. "Hey, what's up?"

"We're almost out of water," Weber said, holding up the bucket. "We thought we'd go get more, but…"

But they were scared. Sam understood that. "I'll go," he said.

"We'll come with you," Andy said.

When Sam started to protest, Weber said, "None of us are supposed to go anywhere alone. You said that yourself."

"Okay," Sam said. "Jake, you'll stay and keep an eye on the others?"

"No problem," Jake said, raising the knife.

Sam, Andy and Weber set off along the old street to the corner that led to the well.

"How are you doing?" he asked Weber, knowing he wasn't dealing with the stress particularly well.

"Okay," he replied uncertainly.

"Your head?" Sam asked.

"Pretty bad," Weber admitted.

"He had a real bad headache in the night while you were sleeping," Andy said. "Woke me up moaning."

"We'll be out of here soon," Sam reassured him. "Then we'll get you checked out properly."

"When?" Weber asked dejectedly.

"Soon," Sam said again. "They're coming for us. I'm sure of it."

"How will they find us?" Andy asked. "We're in the middle of nowhere. How will they know where to even start looking?"

Sam bit his lip. "You know the bell that's outside the schoolhouse? I saw that in a vision when I was being pummeled by them. There was a friend with me, and she's a mind reader like Sarah. She had to have seen it, too. If they put it together, they'll figure out where it is, and that will lead them to us."

Weber nodded looking miserable. "I don't know what we'd…" He dropped the bucket and clapped a hand to his forehead.

"Again!" Andy said desperately, squeezing his brother's shoulder.

Weber nodded and screwed his face up.

"It's okay," Sam said futilely. He didn't know if anything would be okay for Weber. What if this pain didn't have anything to do with his ability? What if there was something seriously wrong? John and Dean might not get there in time. Andy would be ruined if he lost his brother. Just as Sam would be if he lost Dean.

Weber slowly calmed and his features smoothed out. "I'm okay."

"Sam!"

The desperate shout came from behind them, and Sam sprinted towards it without thought, leaving Andy and Weber behind. It was Jake calling him, yet he didn't sound as though he was near the schoolhouse anymore. He was in the other direction.

"Jake!" he shouted. "Where are you?"

"Sam!" He was scared now; Sam could hear it in his voice.

He skidded around the corner and saw Jake walking slowly toward the trees. His steps were strange. It was almost as if he was fighting a strong wind.

"Stop, Jake!" he shouted. He ran to him and caught his shoulders.

Jake turned to him and pushed him away. Sam sprawled onto his back, small stones in the dirt scraping his palms. In Jake's right hand was the knife. Sam froze.

"I can't stop myself," Jake said. "I heard it."

"What?" Sam asked. "Did the demon do something to you?"

"Not the demon," Jake grunted. "Him!"

"Fight it," Sam said. "You're strong."

Jake drew a rasping breath. "I can't. He's making me do it."

"Who?"

Jake shook his head jerkily then his eyes widened as his shuddering hand brought up the knife. Sam scrambled to his feet and grabbed Jake's wrist, trying to pull it down again. Jake's strength was irresistible though. Even with Sam putting all his weight against him, the point of the knife pressed into the side of Jake's throat.

"Jake, no!"

With his terrified eyes fixed on Sam, Jake pushed the knife into his own neck and twisted it. Blood spurted from the wound, spattering Sam. The strength in his wrist suddenly disappeared and Sam yanked his arm down, dragging the knife from the wound too late. Jake fell backwards gracelessly and blood pulsed from his neck with each beat of his heart.

"Jake," he moaned.

Jake's eyes were becoming distant and Sam squeezed his chin. "Look at me!" he commanded, though he knew Jake was beyond his help.

"Stop him," Jake rasped. "Kill him."

"What? Kill who?" Sam asked.

"Weber."

Sam's heart lurched. "He did this to you?"

Jake nodded once, licked his lips, and seemed to be trying to speak again, but his head tilted to the side and his gurgling breaths stopped.

* * *

Sam stayed kneeling beside Jake for a long time, his mind reeling, and then he realized the danger of what he was doing. He gently closed Jakes eyes, plucked the knife out of his unresisting hand, and stood. He wiped his bloody hands on his pants and marshalled himself to do what he knew now that he had to.

He walked slowly back to the schoolhouse and inside. Everyone was cowering in the corner, obviously terrified.

"Sam!" Ava gasped. "My God, are you okay?"

Sam shook his head. "It's not my blood. It's Jake's."

Sarah moaned. "What happened?"

"He killed himself."

"I knew it," Weber said in a shaky voice. "We're being picked off one by one by the demon. We're all going to kill ourselves."

Ava whimpered and Daryll put an arm around her shoulders.

"No, we're not," Sam said. "I understand what's happening now."

"What is happening?" Andy asked fearfully.

Sam fixed his eyes on Weber. "How long have you been able to do it to us?"

"What? I haven't done anything to anyone!"

"Sam, what are you talking about?" Andy asked.

"I'm talking about your brother," Sam said seriously. "He's the one doing this."

Weber turned to Andy. "I don't know what he's talking about, I swear!"

"Did the demon tell you what to do or are you acting on your own?" Sam asked remorselessly.

"I… I don't know what you…" Weber stuttered and sighed as the terrified look slid from his face and was replaced by a smile. "Took you long enough."

"Weber?" Andy said, staring at his brother in confusion.

"My name is Ansem," he said. "I was only Weber to get to you. I needed you close while I trained myself. You won't believe what I can do now. Like this!" He swept a hand through the air and everyone but Andy and Sam was thrown back against the wall with cries of pain and grunts. They fell away, but no one seemed capable of walking away. They were cowering where they'd hit.

Sam's grip on the knife tightened. "So, was it the demon?" he asked.

"Yep. He's been coming to me for months now. Ever since I realized what I could do. He told me I had a twin. He told me what I had to do, how to practice and make myself strong. I went to Guthrie to find Andy and was just starting to build something with him when you and the Scooby Gang arrived. I thought that was it, I was rumbled, but you did me a favor. You got me and Andy together faster than I could have hoped. The demon told me we were coming here and what I had to do."

"And now you can control us," Sam stated.

"Yeah. I started with Andy. Little things, like what movie we should watch or when we should go out for a drink. He had no idea I was even doing anything. Once I started practicing, I got so strong; I don't even have to talk to do it anymore. I can send my will right into someone's head with my thoughts. It gives me a headache working from a distance, but the results are more than worth it."

"Lily, Matthew, Jake."

"Karen, too," Weber—Ansem—said smugly. "Those demon kids are easy to control. I knew I had to stop you all leaving and get the killing started, so I called one up and set it to work. The others' powers were the biggest threats. You were right, Matthew had been here a long time." He took a step towards Sam. "I know the demon thinks you're the best. He didn't tell me but I _know._ You're his favorite. He's not getting you though. He's getting me and Andy. We're going to be the dream team. We'll be able to do what he needs. I'll take you out of the race, and he'll see we're the best option."

"You're crazy," Andy breathed.

"Don't be like that, bro," he said. "It's going to be great, I promise."

He thrust a hand out and Sam was sent flying back into the wall. The knife dropped from his hand as his head hit hard with a loud crack, stunning him.

Ansem walked forward and picked up the knife. "I don't like getting my hands dirty. Normally, I'd make you to do this to yourself, but I think it's more poetic if you're my first hands-on kill."

Sam was pinned against the wall just as he had been by the poltergeist. He could do nothing more than suck in his stomach as Weber moved close enough that Sam could feel his breath on his face. "Nice meeting you, Sam. Thanks for all the help."

He thrust the knife forward and Sam felt a burning pain in his gut. He couldn't move to staunch the bleeding, and it quickly soaked through his shirt and dripped down to the floor. He cried out with the pain and someone screamed.

He looked past Weber to Ava, knowing there was something he needed to say to her, but he couldn't seem to find the words.

Then Scott rushed away from the wall and clapped his hand to Weber's neck. Weber cried out as the shock rocked through him. As he seized, he dropped the knife and Andy picked it up in a shaking hand.

Weber took a deep breath and started to reach for the knife, but Andy was faster. He shoved the blade right into Weber's heart.

Weber looked down at the handle protruding from his chest and his expression was betrayed. He kept his feet for a moment longer and then he thumped to the floor at the same time as the hold on Sam disappeared. He slid down the wall and slumped forwards.

"Sam!" Sarah screamed, dropping to her knees beside him. She slapped her hands to his stomach where the blood was thickest. She turned and shouted for someone to give her a blanket.

"Ava?" Sam said weakly.

"She's here, Sam," Sarah said. "Just hold on, okay?"

Ava appeared in his line of sight and Sam forced out the words through his pain, fighting the unconsciousness that wanted to sweep over him. "No deal. Tell them, no deal. Make them understand."

Tears streaking down her face, Ava said, "I won't need to. You're going to be fine."

"Promise me," Sam whispered. "Please."

She nodded. "I promise."

"Good," Sam breathed. "Tell Jess… I wasn't scared."

"I will," Ava said in a choked voice. "But you have to hang on."

"Yeah," Sam said barely audibly. "I'm not scared."

As unconsciousness swept over him, he realized he had done something he tried never to do. He had lied.

He was terrified.

* * *

 **So… Sammy's bleeding out in Cold Oak again. Tell me honestly, did you expect anything less from one of my stories?**

 **A note about Jake: I wrangled over his death for a long time. Gredelina1 wanted him to live, but I thought his life was already over when he was forcibly made AWOL. I came around to her line of thinking, wanting him to live, too, but then I realized he couldn't. He was a threat to Weber, he would have killed him straight off, and I couldn't have had the confrontation between Sam and Weber. Poor Jake just had to go.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	29. Chapter 29

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing and improving this for me. Thank you Gredelina1 for all your help and advice.**

 **Jenjoremy said I needed to post a quick update after the cliffy I left you with last time, so here you are…**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Twenty-Nine**_

A fallen tree was across the dirt road, blocking their path. John didn't believe it had fallen naturally; it had been placed there to stop them.

When Dean pulled the Impala to a stop and they climbed out, the other cars stopped behind them and there was the sound of doors opening and closing as everyone else got out. Bobby and Daniel, Ellen and Bill began to arm themselves.

"Jess, maybe you should stay here," Dean said as John walked around the car and popped the trunk.

She cast him a baleful look. "No."

"We have no idea what we're heading into," he said. "How many demons or how many ghosts. You'll be safer here."

"I'm coming!" she snapped and walked to the trunk.

John slapped a sawn-off in her hands and said, "It's loaded with salt rounds. Ghosts will be dispersed by it. Demons will at least be slowed down a little. Stay behind us."

He didn't know what he was walking into either, so he loaded his pockets quickly with holy water and salt cans and tucked a sawn-off under his own arm, adding to the Glock already tucked into the back of his pants.

He didn't wait for Dean to catch up with him before setting out around the tree and along the tree-lined dirt road that was lit by the dim sun struggling from behind the clouds. He heard the trunk slam closed and a few moments later Dean fell into step at his side.

John thought he should say something to comfort him—that was a father's job—but he couldn't find the words. Anything he said would have been a false comfort, as he didn't know what they were going into either. He shouted Sam's name instead, wanting him to know they were coming, that they were going to save him.

"Sam!" Dean added his voice to John's and then they all started calling to him.

"Here!" A panicked voice shouted back.

"Quiet!" John snapped and they all fell silent. "Sam?"

"We're here," a woman shouted. "Help us! We're here!"

A bell began to chime at a frantic pace and over the sound John heard the woman still shouting for help.

He started running, sprinting toward the sound. The road curved and dilapidated houses came into sight. At the very end of the road stood a woman and a man. The man was ringing the bell and the woman waving her hands over her head.

"Here!" she shouted. "We're here."

John raced towards them, his chest heaving with fear as much as exertion. As he got closer, he saw that it was Laura and Scott, two of the people they'd tracked from Sam's visions.

"Where's Sam?" John shouted when they were close.

"In there," Scott said, pointing the building behind him. "You have to help him."

John's heart chilled. The open panic in Scott's voice portended nothing good for them. He didn't slow. He raced across the boardwalk and through the door.

His first thought was that it had to be a nightmare, that it couldn't be real. There was a dead body on the floor with a knife protruding from the chest, and it looked as though the body had been shoved aside to make room beside the second form lying on the floor. His son.

Sam's abdomen was drenched in blood and his eyes were closed. It was hard to see him properly as Daryll and Sarah were crowded around him, Daryll doing chest compressions and Sarah blowing a breath into his mouth. When Sarah pulled back, John saw that Sam's face was white and his lips pale. He took it all in within the second it took him to get into the room.

"Bill, keep Jess outside!" he bellowed. Jessica didn't need to see this. She already had enough nightmares to live with, and Sam wouldn't want to add to them.

"Sam," Dean said weakly beside him.

John threw himself forward, throwing the gun aside "Get out of my way!" he snapped at Daryll.

Daryll obeyed quickly, scrambling away from Sam's side. John replaced Daryll's hands with his own and began to press his clasped hands on Sam's chest, pushing down to pump whatever blood remained in his body around to his vital organs. John couldn't let himself think about how much blood had been lost already, and with each compression, more blood oozed from the wound on his stomach. Daryll seemed to read John's mind and ripped off his outer shirt, quickly balling it up and pressing it into the wound, trying to keep the blood where it was needed.

A woman was screaming outside, Jessica, and John could imagine the fight she was putting up to get free. She couldn't see this though. It would break her and John knew how it felt to be broken. He had spent years in his half-life because he lost the son he was now fighting to save.

"Let me!" Dean snarled.

Sarah sprawled back as Dean shoved her out of the way and took her place at Sam's head. He took a deep breath and then bowed over and forced the air into Sam's lungs.

"That's good," John said roughly. "That's it, son."

When Dean straightened, John saw that wetness was streaking down Sam's face. For a hopeful moment he thought it was Sam's own tears, but then he realized, as Dean wiped a hand over his eyes, that it was his tears that had dropped onto his brother.

John wasn't crying. He wasn't strong, but he knew it wasn't time for that yet. As long as he and Dean were there, breathing for Sam, making his blood move, fighting for him, there was hope.

"How long has he been down?" Bobby asked.

"I'm not sure," Sarah said tearfully. "Maybe a minute or two?"

"He wasn't scared," a weak voice said.

John glanced up and saw Ava kneeling at Sam's feet. She was holding his ankles as if by holding him tight enough she could ground him to life.

"What?" John snapped.

"He wasn't scared. He knew what was happening, but he wasn't scared. He told me to tell Jess."

John felt bile rise in his throat and he swallowed it down hard. Sam had known what was happening to him. He'd been conscious enough to process what was coming and to tell her this to be passed onto Jessica. Did he think it would comfort her? How scared had he really been as he lay dying?

"Not dying," John growled, forcing himself to try harder, push faster, to do for his son what he could not do for himself.

"He wasn't scared," Ava said, her voice weak with shock.

"Shut your mouth!" Dean snarled.

Bobby squeezed his shoulder and Dean shook his head roughly.

Ava seemed to see them for the first time. "No deal!" she said as if struck by a sudden idea or memory.

"What?"

"Sam said, he made me promise to tell you, no deal. I have to make you understand."

Of course he did. Sam would want to cover his bases. He had known what they would do if he was lost. His thoughts as he lay there bleeding out were on trying to protect them.

"The hell with that!" Dean said angrily.

"I promised him," Ava said. "No deal. You have to understand."

"Quiet!" John said harshly. "It's not time for that!"

Though was it? John and Bobby had more medical knowledge than anyone there. John knew in his heart that it wasn't time, but his head said different. He looked up at Bobby, pleading for reassurance, and Bobby shook his head sadly. "We don't know how long…" he started.

"What?" Dean asked. "What are you…? No! He's going to be fine."

They needed a hospital with equipment that would save. They were stuck in the middle of nowhere without a bandage to their name, let alone a defibrillator.

"Scott!" he said, suddenly struck by a possibility. All else seemed silent, not even Jessica's screams reached him anymore as his voice rose to a shout. "Scott!"

Scott appeared at the door. "Yes," he said tremulously.

"You have to help him!" John said.

"Yes!" Dean hissed.

Scott looked confused. "I don't…" His eyes widened as he understood. "I can't!"

"You can," John said emphatically.

"I killed the cat," Scott said. "I burned it up inside. I can't."

"He's already dead," John said, and Dean moaned. "You can't hurt him anymore than he already is, but you can save him. We've got the bleeding under control, but we need to restart his heart. You're the only chance he has. You have to try!"

"Please," Dean begged. "Please try."

Scott seemed to steel himself and then he came to kneel between John and Dean. "Get back," he said. Dean and Daryll immediately obeyed.

It took real effort for John to take his hands from his son's chest. When he had been touching him, he felt that he was saving him. Now he had to rely on someone else to do what he couldn't.

"Ava!" Dean snapped.

John saw her hands were still on Sam, and he pushed them away roughly. Scott drew a breath and placed his hands on Sam's chest. There was a jolting sound and Sam twitched, but John knew even before Dean checked that it wasn't enough.

"More!"

Scott nodded and this time the jolt was accompanied by a thump as Sam's back arched off of the floor and thudded back down.

Dean pressed his fingers to Sam's throat again and shook his head.

"Look at me, Scott!" John commanded. When Scott obeyed, fixing his terrified eyes on him, John went on, impassioned. "I know you're scared, but the only thing to be scared of here is failing. You can do it. This is my son, now save him!"

Scott turned his eyes back to Sam and with his eyes screwed shut, he sent the shock through his chest.

Sam back arched again and then the most incredible thing happened: as his body thudded back to the floor, he coughed and drew a breath.

"Sammy," Dean said in a breathy voice.

Scott scrambled back and John moved to lean over Sam. He held a hand on Sam's now moving chest and breathed a sigh of such immense relief that it made his head swim.

Sam's eyes opened and then fixed on John.

"Sam, oh thank god," he said weakly. "You're okay. We're all here. You're going to be fine." He cupped Sam's cheek in his hand and his own tears joined Dean's.

"No deal," Sam said barely audibly as his eyes began to drift shut again.

"No, Sam!" he said harshly. "You have to stay awake."

"No…" Sam's eyes slid shut but his breaths still came slow and weak.

"Let me by, John," Bobby said.

John moved back as Bobby turned to Scott and said, "You, kid, give me your shirt."

While Scott obeyed, Bobby lifted Sam's shirt and used Daryll's already saturated shirt to swipe through the blood to find the wound. It was small, a couple inches across, but John suspected it was deep. Scott handed Bobby the shirt and he pressed it to Sam's stomach.

"Dean, hold this here," he said. "Keep it down hard."

Dean hurried to Sam's side and leaned heavily on the cloth, holding it tight to Sam's stomach. It quickly stained red.

"What happened to him?" "Bobby asked.

"Weber stabbed him," Daryll said.

"And his head," Ava whispered. "When he hit the wall, his head made a horrible sound."

Bobby ran his hands over the back of Sam's head and nodded. "We have to move him now. Get him to a hospital."

"I'll do it," John said. He squatted at Sam's side and eased his hands under him gently. Pulling him against his chest, he stood, wavering a moment under the weight before steadying with Bobby's hand on his back. He carried Sam out of the building and into the clean air.

"Sam!" Jessica shrieked.

John saw she was being held by back Bill and Daniel. At John's nod, they released her and she ran forward.

"He's alive, Jess," he said.

She didn't even seem to hear the words let alone register them. "I'm here, baby. You're going to be okay." She kissed his pale cheek. "I love you, Sam. I love you so much."

John walked as fast as he could under his burden back towards the car, noticing the body by the woods for the first time. It was Jake. He had come after all, and he had died. All those special children, and there was just a handful left.

"Jim, get the others out of here," John said. "Keep them safe."

He would trust his friends to do that, as that was what Sam would want. He was going to concentrate all his energy on getting his son to a hospital.

Dean fell into step at his side, still holding the shirt to Sam's wound.

"He's going to be okay, Dean," he said.

"I know," Dean said.

And if he wasn't, John knew what he had to do.

* * *

Once again, Dean was coated in Sam's blood.

He was standing in the men's room of the hospital, staring into the mirror at his own ashen face.

The moment they'd gotten to the hospital, Sam had been swept away from them on a gurney, out of their reach, taking away their chance to comfort or help him. He hadn't woken up in the car on the way there, though they hadn't tried hard to rouse him. Bobby said he would be in immense pain, and while he still lived, they wanted to spare him from that, even though what they wanted more than anything was for him to be awake and talking to them. They wanted to be able to look into his eyes and tell him they were going to save him.

An elderly man walked into the restroom, his eyes sad. He started as he looked at Dean though and his eyes widened. "Are you okay, son?" he asked.

Dean shook his head.

"Do you need some help?" he asked. "A doctor?"

Dean looked down at his bloody hands gripping the basin and the stains on his clothes. "It's not my blood," he said. "It's my brother's."

"I'd say that's good, but I have a brother, too. He came in here for a hip replacement but he had a reaction to the anesthetic. They say it's serious. He's eighty-five, a good age people say, but it's never enough for the people you love, is it?"

"My brother was stabbed."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said. "What's his name?"

"Sam. His name is Sammy."

"I'll keep him in my prayers," the man said.

"Thanks," Dean said dully.

"Will you take some advice?"

Dean shrugged. "Sure."

"Clean yourself up and get back to him as fast as you can."

"They won't let me near him yet," Dean said.

"Then be ready when they do. Your little brother is going to need you."

"How did you know he was younger?" Dean asked.

"Because you have the look. I'm an older brother, too. It's not an easy job, is it?"

"No," Dean said heavily. "It's really not." Especially when you failed as Dean had.

"Clean yourself up, son." He walked into a cubicle and shut the door.

Dean turned on the faucet and held his hands under the water. The blood diluted and ran down the drain. He scrubbed and then soaped them, removing any trace of the blood. When they were clean, he turned off the water and dried his hands on a paper towel. He threw it into the bin and walked back out into the corridor.

They had been deposited in a waiting room. Dean went back there and pushed the door open. Everyone looked up as he entered and then looked back at clasped hands and the opposite wall.

"No news?" he asked, though he was sure they would have shared it already if there was.

John shook his head. "He's still in the trauma bay."

Dean slumped down onto the couch. Jessica was curled under John's arm and Ellen was on her other side, holding her hand. Dean wondered if Ellen was remembering her own hospital vigil, when Bill had been almost killed.

They sat in silence for a while, the only sounds Jessica's quick breaths. Dean wished he had words to comfort her, as he knew that was what Sam would want him to do, but he had none. There was nothing he could say to her, as there was nothing anyone could say to him.

The door opened and they all looked up hopefully. Bobby came in with Ava, Scott and Daryll.

Dean didn't ask them what they were doing there, already knowing it was for the same reason as he was—for Sam. He didn't know what had happened to them in that abandoned town, he probably never would, but the horror of it was still etched into their faces.

"They're still working on him," John said in response to Bobby's questioning look.

"He's going to be okay, though, right?" Ava asked.

"Yes," Jessica said firmly. "He's going to be fine."

Ava seemed to take her words at face value and she came to sit beside Dean looking relieved. Daryll and Bobby took the other couch and Scott moved to sit on the lone armchair in the corner. Dean remembered he liked to be as far from others as much as he could because of his ability. He was constantly afraid of hurting someone. Though Dean hoped he would find some peace now that he knew it could help people, too. He had saved Sam's life, and Dean would never be able to repay that debt.

"Where are the others?" John asked.

"Bill and Sarah are on their way to Tennessee. Caleb is bringing her little girl to meet them halfway," Bobby said. "Jim and Daniel have Andy and Laura at a motel a few miles away. Andy seems pretty messed up."

"He would be," Ava said darkly.

Dean knew there was a story there, but he didn't bother to ask.

There was a knock on the door and a man in deep blue scrubs came in.

"Sam Winchester?" he asked.

Jessica straightened up quickly. "He's my fiancée. Is he okay?"

"I'm Doctor Wyatt. Sam is on his way to surgery," he said. "We have found a closed head injury in addition to the stab wound. A neurologist and general surgeon are going to assess him through exploration and attempt to repair the damage."

"Attempt?" Jessica said.

"There are no guarantees with injuries like this. He is in the best possible hands and we are doing everything we can to help him. We understand he suffered a cardiac arrest at the scene."

Ava nodded and pointed to Scott. "He saved him."

The doctor clearly assumed Ava meant with CPR, and he looked surprised. "You did very well. It's not as common as TV would have you believe to revive someone with CPR. You must have worked very hard."

Scott shrugged. "I guess."

It hadn't been CPR though. John and Dean had done that and failed him. Scott had saved him with his ability.

"Do you know how long he was down?" he asked.

"We're not sure," Daryll said. "Why?"

"There can be complications from things like this," he said. "But Sam is obviously a fighter. We'll be able to tell you more when he's out of surgery. I need to go now, but there are nurses on hand if you have more questions. The surgical team will be in touch with them throughout the surgery if there is anything you need to be told. But, remember, the fewer updates you get the better things are going."

"Thanks, Doc," John said.

He nodded and walked out of the room.

"He is a fighter," Jessica said confidently, sitting back again. "He's going to be okay. He won't leave me."

Dean wished he had her absolute faith. He knew Sam would fight, but he was terrified it was a battle he would not be able to win.

"What happened?" John asked. "Weber stabbed him, but why? Was he possessed?"

"He was talking to the demon," Daryll said. "He said it had been happening for months. He told him about Andy and trained him to kill. That's what we were supposed to do. We were supposed to kill each other until there was one left. That was what it wanted—one of us to win."

"There was another man there, one Sam didn't see before," Ava said. "He was called Matthew. There were more of us than we knew about. Sam said there were a lot of bodies in a pit. Matthew had been killing a long time. But when we came, Weber was stronger. He controlled this… Acheri thing it was called, to kill Karen when we tried to escape, and he used his mind control to make the others commit suicide. Lily hung herself from the water tower, and it looked like Jake stabbed himself in the neck. I don't know how Matthew did it."

"Sam saved us," Scott said. "He was so calm, and he kept us calm, too. He told us what to do to protect ourselves and he looked after us. When he found out what Matthew had done, he told us so we were warned, so the demon couldn't make us do the same."

"He was so brave," Ava said admiringly. "A hero like you."

Dean nodded. Sam was a hero. For all their combined life of hunting, none of them had faced something like he had in Cold Oak. Would they have risen to it as well as Sam had? Dean and John hadn't wanted Sam to be a hunter, they'd fought it at every turn, but Sam had stepped up and saved the others. He had taken on more than a hunter's role, and proved himself. Dean was so proud of him, though he would never let him be in a position that he had to do it again.

"So that's why this Weber stabbed him?" Bobby said. "So he would be the victor?"

"That was his endgame," Daryll said. "But Sam worked out what he was doing and confronted him. He just… switched. He had been terrified the whole time we were there, having these terrible headaches. When Sam started talking, he pretended to be scared, but then he changed. He was confident, bragging about it. That's when he stabbed Sam."

"Scott shocked him," Ava said. "He dropped the knife and Andy… He killed him."

Jessica gasped. "Andy killed his brother!"

"Yes," Daryll said gravely.

John seemed unconcerned by the news. He turned to Scott and said, "You saved my son twice then. Thank you so much. We will never be able to repay you, but I promise we will try. If you ever need _anything_ call us and we'll deliver."

Scott looked pleased but his smiled faded after a moment. "I should have been faster. I could have stopped Sam being hurt at all."

"It's not your fault," Jessica said. "None of us know what we would do in that situation until we were in it. And Sam's going to be fine."

"I hope you're never in it," Scott said. "I've never been so scared in my life."

"Do you think it's over though?" Daryll asked thoughtfully. "There were more of us that Sam didn't see that were there before us. What if there are more to come after? We might not have been the last group taken."

Dean shrugged. He really didn't care either way. He had been consumed with trying to save everyone for Sam and had let down the person that mattered most. He wouldn't make the same mistake again.

* * *

Hours passed. They got occasional updates from Jim and Bill of what was happening to the others, but the update they really needed didn't come for a long time.

Dean was sitting with his head in his hands, trying desperately to hide the tears burning in his eyes. Despite what the doctor had said about no news being good news, he was scared by how long it was taking. How much damage was there to repair? He didn't want to voice those questions, though, or let Jessica see his tears. She was being so strong, and he couldn't risk that by showing his weakness.

After what felt like a very long time, the door opened and two people came in, a woman and a man. They were wearing scrubs and surgical caps.

Dean wiped a hand over his face and joined Jessica and John in standing. The others stayed seated, and Scott seemed to press himself further into the chair.

"Sam Winchester's family?" the woman asked.

"That's us," John said, waving a hand inclusive of them all in the room. They had all earned their right to be called family.

"I'm Doctor Findlay," the male doctor said. "I'm the general surgeon that operated on Sam. The knife wound penetrated his small intestine. I have repaired the damage, but the nature of the injury presents a high risk of infection. We have him on a course of broad-spectrum antibiotics. The blood loss he sustained is being replenished with transfusions."

"He'll be okay?" Dean asked.

The woman cleared her throat. "My name is Doctor Abbott, and I'm a neurologist. Sam's head injury is the main concern for me. Some swelling has developed and we're treating it with a drug called Mannitol. We're monitoring the pressure carefully and using anticonvulsants as a preventative measure."

"He might have seizures?" John asked.

"That is a common reaction to a head injury, yes. We're trying to keep the risk of that as low as possible as we don't want to cause further damage to his abdominal wound or exacerbate the brain injury."

"He's going to be okay," Jessica said decisively.

Doctor Abbott looked somber. "Sam is deeply unconscious, and he's isn't responding to painful stimulus. His injuries are stable at the moment, but we're playing a waiting game now. The sooner he wakes up, the less chance of damage there is."

"Brain damage?" John rasped.

Dean swayed and someone placed a hand on his back to steady him.

"We don't know anything for certain yet," the doctor said. "There's always a risk of it with injuries like Sam's, but he has made it this far. If I may speak frankly, he's already exceeded expectations. We have to hope he continues to do so."

"And if he doesn't?" John asked. "What kind of damage are we talking about?"

"John!" Jessica said sharply

The doctor looked at John and his demanding look and answered. "There could be long term cognitive and/or physical impairment. He could suffer seizures. It's possible that he could not wake up at all. None of these are certainties, but they are possibilities, and I would be remiss if I didn't warn you."

John eyes were wet and distant. He sagged where he stood and his chin shook. Though he'd hoped he would never see them again, Dean recognized all the signs of a breakdown at once. He thought he should say something to help him, to sit him down before he fell, but his words had disappeared and he was frozen. He was in shock. He thought he was heading for a breakdown this time, too.

"He was going to law school," John said weakly. "He was getting married."

"He _is_ going to law school!" Jessica said harshly. "He is going to marry me and we will have our whole life ahead of us. We're going to live it together." She gripped the front of John's shirt and tugged on it. "He's going to be fine. He is going to fight this and win. Don't you dare give up on him again. He's not dead. He's not been taken. He is alive and he _will_ stay that way."

John turned haunted eyes on her but he didn't speak. His face said it all. He couldn't take a knock like this and hold on. He had been through too much in his life; he had lost so much and suffered so horribly. He was broken perhaps even more than he had been when Sam was lost the first time.

Jessica released him, looking disgusted, and turned to the doctors at the door. "Take me to my fiancée."

Doctor Abbott nodded. "He's in ICU, so there can only be two visitors in the room at a time."

John took a step forward and made a hoarse sound in his throat.

Jessica rounded on him and pointed an accusing finger into his chest. "No! You stay here. You can see him when you're ready to believe in him again."

Dean shot his father an apologetic look, but John didn't even seem to notice. He was looking at Jessica as if he had never seen her before. There was no anger in him, just devastation.

"I'll come," Dean said. "He's my brother," he added for the sake of the doctors.

They nodded and gestured them out ahead of them. When they were in the corridor, they led Jessica and Dean toward a door at the end. They passed through it and into a quiet ward with individual rooms. There were windows set into the walls, and as they passed, Dean glanced into several and saw people in beds hooked up to all kinds of equipment with people sitting by the bed and holding patient's hands.

They were halfway along the corridor when Doctor Abbott stopped them and opened a door. Dean drew a deep breath before following Jessica inside. He gasped at the new nightmare in front of him. The room was so loud. There was humming and beeping and the rush and click of a ventilator.

Sam was lying flat on a bed, his hands perfectly still at his side. His skin was almost as pale as the sheet that covered him to the chest, and as Dean moved closer, Dean saw his lips, which were parted by the ventilator tube, were almost white. There were two large electrode pads on his chest connected to a machine at his side.

"What's that?" he asked weakly, pointing.

"That's the defibrillator," Doctor Wyatt said. "If Sam's heart fails, it will automatically deliver a shock. It's standard protocol in cases such as this, as the response is instant rather than the delay of waiting for a code team to come."

"Will he need it?" Dean asked.

"No!" Jessica answered sharply.

"It's the recommended approach," the doctor said carefully.

Jessica shook her head jerkily. "Can I touch him?"

"Yes, but be mindful of the equipment."

Jessica nodded and carefully leaned over the bed and kissed Sam's cheek. "Hey, baby," she said gently. "How're you doing?"

It was as if she expected an answer. Dean had to swallow hard twice to force down the lump in his throat. He stepped up to the side of the bed and touched Sam's icy cold hand. "Hey, Sammy."

Jessica pulled a chair close to the side of the bed and ran her fingers up and down Sam's arm. Dean sat down on the other side of the bed and stared at his brother's still face.

After a while of silence, he said, "He isn't giving up."

"I know," Jessica said with certainty. "He never does."

"No, I mean Dad. He's just… scared. He's been through a lot."

"We all have," Jessica said dismissively.

They had, but Jessica hadn't seen Sam in that schoolhouse, dead on the floor. She hadn't fought second by second to sustain him with CPR. She hadn't been sure that it was too late the way Dean had. She hadn't seen the miracle that was Scott saving his life.

"I know Sam," she said. "He won't leave me. There's still so much for us to do." She smiled sweetly. "We're going to get married."

Dean heard the absolute surety in her voice. She believed in his brother completely. Dean would have to do the same.

After a while of listening to Jessica speaking softly to Sam, Dean noticed movement at the window. John was standing outside, looking in. His face hadn't lost the haunted look.

"I'll be right back," he said.

Jessica nodded without taking her eyes from Sam.

He slipped out of the door and walked to his father's side but when Dean reached him, John turned and walked away. Dean rushed after him and grabbed his arm. "What are you doing? Where are you going?"

John stopped and looked at him. "I'm not giving up."

"I know, Dad. None of us are. Go in and sit with him a while. I'll wait outside. It'll help."

John shook his head. "I can't. There's something I have to do."

"What?" Dean asked angrily. "What can be more important than Sam?"

"I have a plan."

He pulled his arm free of Dean's grip and walked away. Dean could only stand frozen, watching him go.

* * *

Azazel walked through the woods, twigs breaking under his heels. He smelled death before he saw it. The dream walker lay dead at the foot of a tree. Her throat had been slit by Ansem's Acheri demon. It was a clean kill. He was surprised at the demon's speedy murder; they usually liked to play.

He carried on walking, passing the barn with its stench of death. He didn't need to look inside, having visited the pit of victims each time he came here. Something drew him in though. He stopped inside the door and saw the corpse of Matthew slumped against the far wall. He was pleased by his demise. He had been useful for a while, weeding out the dead weight, but his time was over.

He left the barn and walked along the street. There was another body sprawled in a pool of blood. Jake Talley. He had been stabbed in the throat. He felt a thrill of hope that it had been Sam's kill, that he was finally moving along the foretold path.

He noticed the lack of voices as he drew closer to the schoolhouse. There were enough of them left, surely, to make some noise. Perhaps Sam had thrown himself into the task and killed the others already. He imagined finding Sam curled in some corner, the knife in his hands and the guilt in his eyes. Azazel would swiftly deal with that guilt, showing him that it was the only way. Sam was a smart kid; he'd understand.

When he entered the schoolhouse, though, there wasn't a victorious but guilt-ridden Sam anywhere in sight. Ansem Weems lay dead on the floor, a knife protruding from his chest and a smeared pool of congealed blood beneath him. His eyes were wide and staring.

Azazel wasn't remotely concerned about his death. Ansem was never going to be the victor after all. He was far too unstable. It was the second pool of blood that concerned him. It bore multiple footprints and smears where it looked as if people had kneeled.

He couldn't be sure, and he tried to reassure himself that Sam would have been motivated to save any of them if Azazel hadn't managed to corrupt him as well as he'd hoped. The footprints could be Sam's. Without Ansem's Acheri to stop them, they could have all escaped through the woods.

He wasn't certain though. This was a complication he hadn't foreseen.

"It's not the end," he said, looking down at his deceased servant. "I'm nothing if not adaptable."

He was going to find Sam Winchester.

* * *

 **So… John has a plan. Who knows what it is? Before you close the tab and curse me for lack of imagination, ponder this: if you're still reading, it's because I haven't failed you so far, so should you stop now? Give me a little longer. There's only one chapter and the epilogue to go now. Be here for it.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	30. Chapter 30

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy. You really are the best there is. I always love what you do with what I send you. Thank you also Gredelina1 for everything you do for me. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.  
**

 **I figure you've waited long enough after the way the last one ended. Here is the last full chapter of Search On...**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Thirty**_

John filled a bag with what he would need from the trunk of the Impala and slammed it closed. He ran a hand over the smooth paintwork of the car that had belonged to him and Mary first, then he and his boys, and was now Dean's. It had seen as much of life as any of them. Tears had been shed in her. There had been laughter, joy, relief, injury, and breakdowns. She was a part of their family.

There had once been a road trip to Kansas with both his boys, which had become one of his fondest memories. They had been just starting out again, but it was then, through laughter and teasing, that he saw his sons rebuilding the bond they had once had.

Most recently, there had been a heartbreaking journey from an old ghost town with his desperately injured son in the back. Every second of that horrific journey was seared into his mind and would be for the rest of his life, no matter how long that was. He had been sure, with every bump on the road and rough turn of the wheel, that the movement was going to cause Sam to fail. He had been terrified, but Sam had made it through to the hospital alive.

That wasn't down to John or Dean, or even Bobby with his hasty triage. It was down to a kid with a talent that he had been afraid of. Scott had thought it would only ever hurt, but it had saved. John would never forget that.

It was also down to Sam and his ability to fight.

John didn't have the same strength as his youngest. He never had. He had lost himself so many times over the years: first losing himself in the hunt after Mary was taken, then losing himself to his misery when Sam was gone. Dean had suffered more than anyone because of that. John had stolen his youth, making him take care of a father that should have sheltered him. He would probably never be able to make that right.

He walked back into the hospital with the bag in his hand. He had already been to the basement, and in the boiler room, so he made his way there unerringly now. People watched him, perhaps seeing the grim man with his empty eyes, but they didn't stop him.

He walked through the maintenance door and down the concrete steps. Each footfall seemed like a weight dragging him down. He wasn't too proud to admit he was afraid. So much relied on him being successful in this.

The boiler room was empty and John dragged over an empty crate to use as a table. He opened his bag and pulled out what he needed. He chalked in the sigil and placed a candle at each enclosed circle then lit them. He dusted off the small bowl and sat it down then filled it with the acacia, oil of abrameli, yarrow, and graveyard dirt.

He closed his eyes, took a breath, and opened them again. He felt calmer now that the moment was upon him. It was too late to go back even if he'd wanted to. He dropped a match down into the bowl and chanted the required Latin. _"_ _Attenrobendum eos,_ _ad consiendrum. Ad ligandum eos, potiter et solvendum. Et ad, congregontum eos, 'coram me."_

Flames rushed up and John stepped back.

There was a dark chuckle and John looked into the yellow eyes of the demon he hated more than any other being in the world.

He was in the meatsuit of a tall man with dark hair. He was dressed in black pants and a crisp white shirt. Azazel could have snatched this man on the way out of the office. He had an angular jaw and pale skin; he looked almost sickly, but when he spoke, his voice was full of dark power.

"Hey, Johnny," he said. "How's things?"

John gritted his teeth, refusing the answer that the demon wanted.

"I'm guessing not good," he said. "I made a stop by the ICU on my way and had a look at Sammy. He's not looking so hot right now, is he?"

"Sam will be fine," John ground out.

"Of course he will, "Azazel said sympathetically. "Just fine. That's why I am here, right? To make all your wishes come true."

"Yes," John said honestly. He was here to make one wish come true at least.

Azazel clapped his hands together. "So, let's get down to business. You're currently fretting over Sammy as he teeters on the verge of death, right?"

John nodded.

"And you need my help. I've got to say, I've seen deals made over more selfish requests. I heard one person offered up their soul to get back at an ex-lover that jilted them. Who would care that much about their pride being bruised to spend an eternity in hell? I blame the movies. They make it all look like internal pain and pineapples up the butt. They don't have a clue how bad it really is down there. I swear, you can't go for a mind-clearing walk without the screams of the souls on the rack disturbing your thoughts. And the demons… They're the worst. Puling, pathetic children. You'd think being a demon of my calibre would be a power trip, but it's the opposite. I swear, if I had a nickel for every time I have had to listen to them bitching about how hard it is to get topside, I'd… Well I'd have a lotta nickels." He laughed.

John stood silently watching him as he rocked back and forth on his heels, clearly enjoying himself.

"Of course, that won't be a problem much longer," he said. "Soon they'll be annoying people topside, too. Though, does evisceration count as annoying or just painful?"

John's attention tautened. "What do you mean?"

Azazel shook a finger at him. "Not your business, Johnny. You and I have bigger things to talk about. Like Sammy. You want him up and on his feet again, healed of all those nasty internal injuries and the brain damage. I get that. It's a father's job to protect his son after all. I have my own little family. I understand a father's love. As it happens, I am inclined to make the deal. You're a pain in the ass and Sam has a bright future ahead of him. I'd do it pro-bono but I can't. Hell's red tape will drive you nuts."

John agreed. Sam had an incredible future ahead of him, but not in the way the demon was saying. Sam was going to be incredible in his human life, free of the supernatural.

"So, I assume you're looking for the full ten years," he said. "Hmm… I hate to disappoint, but that's not really an option in your case. I'll give you until midnight, long enough to say your goodbyes and to really appreciate the gift I am giving you, and the fear of course, and then the hounds will come. Sam will be saved and back to his very best self, and you'll be gone." He gave an affected shiver. "It's great, isn't it? I can hardly wait."

John stayed silent, but his mind reeled.

"Let's get to it then. The deals made on the crossroads are usually sealed with a kiss, but I think you and I will forgo that in favour of a handshake deal."

John held out his hand and Azazel walked forwards. John's breath froze in his chest as he watched him approach. His hand shook and he fought to stop it before the demon noticed. He failed.

"It's okay to be nervous, Johnny. Anyone in your position would be."

He took one more step and then stopped abruptly. He looked confused a moment as his eyes moved from the floor to the ceiling.

"How?" he asked, staring up at the devil's trap painted into the ceiling.

"Used a ladder," John replied.

Bobby walked into the room from the door which he had been lurking behind. Dean followed him and Daniel brought up the rear.

Bobby held up a can of spray paint and shook it slightly. "Fast drying," he said. "Picked up the tip from Sam."

"What's the plan?" Azazel asked. "You going to trap me here until I agree to save Sammy? You missed your chance, Johnny. I told you there was red tape. I can't do anything without a deal."

"That's not the plan," Dean said darkly, walking to stand beside John. "We're here to kill you."

Azazel laughed hard. "And here I was thinking you were smart, Dean. You can't kill a demon. You can barely even hurt me. I don't sweat the holy water the way the lesser ones do. I am, quite literally, invincible."

"You're wrong," John said solemnly. "You can kill anything if you've got the right weapon." He glanced at Daniel who nodded and walked towards him, reaching into his inside pocket. He pulled out an antique gun with a long, elaborately engraved barrel and wooden stock. John held out a hand and Daniel place the colt in it.

"Where did you get that?" Azazel asked.

"It's a family heirloom," Daniel said.

John's anger that Daniel had held the colt all along had mostly dissipated now. He believed Daniel when he said he would have always given it up at the right moment, when he was sure John was ready and not going to waste one of the few remaining precious bullets.

"You won't do it," Azazel said. "You need me. What about Sam?"

"I'm doing what my son needs me to do," John said. "I am being a father."

"He'll die!" he shouted.

John flinched. "I have doubted my son too many times. He has proved himself capable of more than I ever thought possible. I have to trust him to do it again."

Azazel laughed, though the sound had a false note to it now. He was scared. As Mary had been, as Sam and Jessica had been when the demons came in Brady and Rick, as Dean and John were now.

John glanced to the side at his son. "For Mary," he said solemnly.

Dean nodded. "For Mom."

John raised the gun and lined up Azazel in its sights. The demon was still laughing, but now it sounded jarring and almost hysterical.

John pulled the trigger and the bullet flew from the barrel. It hit Azazel at the very center of his forehead. Yellow light crackled around the wound and rippled down his body. He fell back with a thud as the light disappeared and his eyes stared up unseeingly.

John lowered the gun and walked forwards. He stared down at the creature that had torn his life apart and felt a wave of intense relief.

Dean put a hand on his shoulder and said in a hoarse voice. "It's over."

"Yes," John said weakly. "It's done."

"You two get back to Sam," Bobby said. "Me and Daniel will get this into the incinerator." He toed the corpse.

"Sam," Dean said, his desperation evident now that it was over.

"Yes," John said. "Let's get back to our boy."

With his hand on Dean's shoulder, he walked out of the door, leaving the corpse of his enemy for Bobby and Daniel to destroy.

* * *

They slipped out of the maintenance door and Dean's eyes darted around. There was no sign that anyone had heard the gunshot. They'd hoped that the distance between the boiler room and main corridor would prevent it, but Dean had been a little worried. Not worried enough to hold him back though. That thing needed to die.

The fear he had felt as he stood outside the door, listening to his father talking to Azazel had been intense. He'd been almost convinced himself that John would make the deal after all. Dean wasn't sure he could have resisted had it been him. They'd sworn to each other than neither of them would do it, but when the demon spoke about how sick Sam was and how he could save him, it had been hard to think of anything else.

They had agreed, though, that they would respect Sam's words to Ava. His last moments of consciousness, when he'd been bleeding out, had been to reassure Jessica and protect Dean and John. They couldn't destroy that or Sam, as he would be ruined if either of them were to deal for him.

"How are you doing?" John asked as they reached a bank of elevators and stepped into a car.

"Scared," Dean said honestly. "I'm glad it's over, and kinda in shock still, but I'm so scared for Sam."

"Jessica is sure he'll make it," John said. "And he is strong. We have to trust him to do this."

Dean nodded. "Yeah." He thought he would feel better when he was close to him again.

The elevator car stopped and they walked into the ward, passing the room Ellen, Ava, Scott and Darryl were in. He knew they should probably stop and give them an update, but he needed to be with his brother more. Bobby and Daniel could tell them what had happened when they were through with the body.

They pushed through the doors onto Sam's ward and Dean froze with fear.

Jessica was standing outside the window to Sam's room, one hand on the glass and the other at her mouth, attempting to stifle the sobs breaking from her.

"No!" Dean shouted, running forward. "Sam!"

He thrust open the door to Sam's room and raced inside. There were people around the bed moving with urgency, and many voices. The monitor beside Sam's bed was beating out a staccato rhythm. The relief Dean felt at realizing he was still alive was overshadowed almost completely by the fact that he was thrashing and his breaths were rasping around the tube in his throat. Was this a seizure? Was Sam ripping himself apart inside by this new disaster?

"We need to extubate," Doctor Abbott said. "Agreed?"

"Yes," said the doctor on the other side of the bed.

"Save him," Dean said weakly. "Please, save him."

Someone touched Dean's shoulder and he turned and looked into his father's worried eyes.

"Dad," he said desperately.

John nodded as he fixed his eyes on the bed where Sam was struggling.

"Okay, Sam, I need you to cough as hard as you can," Doctor Abbott said. "That's it, good big cough for me." There was a gurgling and choking sound and then she said, "Well done. Now, nice slow breaths for me."

John's hand shook on Dean's shoulder as he tried to make sense of what was happening. Sam had stopped thrashing and the racing of the heart monitor had slowed to a calmer rhythm.

The people stepped back from the bed, leaving only Doctor Abbott beside him. She was threading a cannula under his nose. When she was done, she glanced at Dean and John and said. "You've got visitors, Sam." She waved a hand to gesture them forward and Dean approached slowly. He saw the miracle at once. Sam's eyes were open. They fixed on him and his lips tugged into a weak smile.

"Hey," Sam rasped.

Dean laughed shakily. "Hey."

Sam's eyes moved to John as he stepped closer to the bed. He pushed back Sam's hair and said, "Hey, Sammy."

Sam's expression became tense, as if he was bracing himself for pain. "No deal?" he asked.

"No deal, I swear," John said. "You performed this miracle all on your own."

Dean wiped a hand over his face, smearing the tears. "How are you feeling?"

Sam lifted one shoulder. "Like I got stabbed."

"Sam?" The weak voice came from the door.

Dean and John stepped back and let Jessica have free passage to Sam. She approached with shaky steps and stopped at the side of the bed. Sam smiled at her, and she choked a sob as she bent and kissed him gently on the mouth.

"I knew you were going to be okay," she said.

"I know," Sam said. "I've been able to hear you for a while, I just couldn't seem to wake up." He huffed a laugh and then winced. "I'd love to travel the world with you, but I think ten kids is a bit excessive."

Jessica laughed shakily. "We'll have as many as you want. We'll do anything you want. Just don't try to leave me again."

"I promise," Sam said.

She kissed him again and Sam sighed happily.

"We should get out, let you two be alone," John said, though Dean could hear what it cost him to say it. "They'll be beating us out with a stick soon if we don't. They only like two at a time in here."

"Don't go far," Sam said.

"We won't," Dean said. "I promise."

Sam brought up a shaking hand to Jessica's cheek and cupped it. Unnoticed by him or Jessica, John and Dean slipped out and moved to the window.

"He's okay," John said with a breathy laugh.

"Yeah, he is. He did it."

"You think we should have told him about the demon?"

Dean shook his head. "No. We'll tell him soon, but let him and Jess just be each other's focus for a while first. I don't want that _thing_ coming between them and this moment. They should be able to just think of each other for a while."

John put his hand to the glass and nodded. "Yeah. They've earned that."

And they had. Through visions and demons, attempted murder and fighting, Cold Oak and absolute faith, they had earned their peace together.

* * *

Sam had spent the last couple weeks recovering at Bobby's house in Sioux Falls with John, Dean and Jessica. Jessica had left already, going to spend the week preceding the wedding at her parents' house. Sam had stayed a few extra days to do what he needed to do.

He and Dean were in Bobby's garage, working deep in the engine of a Mustang. Or at least Dean was working while Sam watched carefully, trying to follow the movements of Dean's dexterous hands. He suspected that no matter how many lessons John, Bobby and Dean gave him, and how many books he read, he would never be even as close to adept as them.

"Pass me a metric wrench," Dean said.

Sam picked it out of the toolbox and put it in Dean's waiting hand.

"Thanks, man."

"No, thank you," Sam said. "I wouldn't be able to do this without you."

Dean snorted. "Ain't that the truth. I've never known such a smart man to be so out of his depth."

Sam nudged his shoulder. "I had to leave some talents for you, didn't I?"

"Yeah, I guess you did."

"Boys?" John called from outside. "It's time."

Dean eased himself out from under the hood and turned to Sam. "You ready for this?"

Sam nodded. "More than."

He followed Dean out to Bobby's yard where John had built a woodpile. At his feet was a long roll of paper and in his hands was a gas can and box of salt. He smiled grimly as they approached and held out the gas and salt to them. Sam took the box of salt and watched as Dean uncapped the gas can and tipped it over the woodpile. John nodded to Sam and he shook over the salt.

They'd explained that this was what they called a hunter's pyre. When a person like them died, they would salt and burn the body to stop their spirit sticking around and becoming vengeful. It was a way to lay old ghosts to rest, too, and that was what they were doing now. They were laying the ghosts of their past to rest.

John picked up the roll of paper and tore it into three pieces then handed a piece each to Sam and Dean. It was old and worn, soft in Sam's hands, and he thought of the history of the thing.

John and Dean had carried this with them since Sam had been taken. It had been with them in every motel and home they'd spent time in, always pinned to the wall and studied so they could follow where they'd been and where they were going in the search for the Shtriga and demon. That was over now. Both James and Azazel were dead, and this was the last step in them letting go of that part of their life.

With Azazel's death had come the end of his legacy. Sam and Ava had not had a single vision between them, Scott and Daryll had the freedom of touch again, Sarah's thoughts were her own, and Laura and Andy's minds were free of movement and compulsion. The only one of them that minded the loss of her ability was Sarah, and that was because of Sophie. But even she admitted that it was perhaps better for her daughter to grow up with privacy, and she liked the peace in her own mind.

"Ready?" John asked.

At Dean's nod he lit up a matchbook and threw it onto the wood. The flames built and Dean watched them for a moment before tossing his piece of the map into the fire. Sam took a breath before doing the same and then their eyes fell on John. He had been the one on this hunt the longest, he had fought for Mary when Sam and Dean had still been children. He gripped the map tight in his hand a moment, crinkling the paper, and then threw it onto the flames.

They watched it burn to curls of ash and then John cleared his throat. "It's over."

"Yeah," Dean said, and Sam nodded.

John pointed a finger at Sam. "You need to rest. You're still healing, and we have a long journey ahead of us.

"You sure you're going to be okay to make the drive?" Dean asked. "We can fly, you know."

Sam smiled at him. "I wouldn't do that to you. Besides, we started out again on a road trip and I think it would be good to end this part of it on one, too."

They had lost so much, so many people: Rick, Karen, Lily, Linda and Jake. Even Matthew, Weber and Max hadn't been born evil. They were kids just like Sam had been once, before they'd been corrupted. So much death.

Sometimes it tried to drag Sam down. But he reminded himself that he was alive. He had made it, and some of the others had made it out alive, too. He was healing and in a few more days, he would be a married man.

There was much to be grateful for.

* * *

 **So… It's over. Azazel is dead, and they're all free to make of their lives what they will. I know some of you wanted Sam as a hunter again, but we know how that would look from canon. I wanted him to have the life he had once longed for. Him and Jess. A wedding. Law school. He will still have Dean and John, but he will also have peace, too. I think this particular story ends better this way, don't you?**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	31. Epilogue

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for all you have done for me and this story. You have made it so much better than I could have hoped. Thank you Gredelina1 for supporting me through another project. I really appreciate you giving your time for this and me. Lastly, thank you all that have come on this journey with me. I have loved hearing from you all xxx**

* * *

 _ **Epilogue**_

"Is it straight?" Dean asked, examining his reflection in the mirror and turning his head from side to side to get the best angle to check his bowtie.

"Let me see," John said.

Dean turned and tried to stay still as his father adjusted his tie.

"Now it's perfect," he said. "How does it feel?"

"Like it's choking me," Dean replied.

John laughed. "You've worn a tie before hundreds of times, Dean."

"Not a bowtie," Dean argued. "It's different."

"How?" Sam asked.

"It just is!"

Sam and John laughed and Dean turned back to the mirror and smoothed his hands down the front of his tuxedo jacket, searching for lint. He was nervous as hell. He was facing something he never had before, and there was going to be an audience to it. What if he lost Jessica's ring? He patted his pocket and felt the small bulge of the ring box. John had Sam's. Dean was glad. He was nervous enough holding one. Two rings would have been twice as bad.

"Look at you," John said with a laugh. "I thought it was supposed to be the groom that was nervous, not the best man. I bet even Jess is primping less than you."

Sam grinned at the mention of his beloved and a little shiver passed through him.

"Sam looks nervous, too," Dean defended.

"This isn't nerves, Dean," Sam said. "This is excitement."

John clapped Dean on the shoulder. "You look fine. You'll be fine. It's nowhere near as scary when you're actually out there."

Dean nodded, finding vague comfort in his father's words. He would be fine. He had to be. This was Sam and Jessica's day, and he had a job to do.

There was a knock on the door and Jessica's mother asked, "Can I come in?"

"Come on in, Elizabeth," Sam said.

She opened the door and clapped her hands as she caught sight of them. "Look at you all," she said happily. "So handsome."

Dean brought hand up to his bowtie and John pushed it down again as Sam laughed.

"Now, the pastor would like a word," she said. "Is that okay?"

"Sure," Sam said with a wide smile.

She peered around the door and said, "You can come in."

She stepped back and Jim Murphy entered, dressed in full pastoral outfit.

Dean's mouth dropped open. "Jim? Are you…?"

Jim nodded. "Sam and Jessica swore me to secrecy."

"You're marrying them?" John asked.

"I have been honored enough to be asked, yes."

Sam grinned. "Seemed kinda perfect to have someone from before _and_ now to do it."

"It is perfect," John said. "Really."

"Now, Sam," Jim said. "I've been informed that your intended is almost ready. Are you?"

"More than ready," Sam said excitedly.

John put a hand on his shoulder and steered him to the door. "Let's get you married then."

Dean checked the mirror one last time and then went out after them to watch Sam and Jessica get married. Nerves aside, he was happy.

Life was good.

* * *

Sam legs were shaking, not from weakness or pain but excitement. It was finally time.

The music started and his heart leapt. He saw movement at the back of the room and Jessica and her father appeared at the end of the aisle. His breath caught in his throat and tears burned his eyes. He fixed his gaze on her face and saw her wide smile.

It seemed to take forever for her to reach him, but eventually her father had placed her hand in Sam's. She held him with surprising strength. Sam took comfort in her grip and stared in her eyes. She was beautiful, impossibly even more than she always was. Her hair was swept back from her face and covered with a sheer veil. The dress blossomed out from her waist and the gems on the skirt glinted in the lights.

He had never been as proud as he was in that moment. Saving lives and protecting the others in Cold Oak was nothing compared to this. She had chosen him, somehow found a way to love him as much as he did her, and now they were starting their forever.

Jim greeted the congregation and Sam let the words of the service rush over him. The room seemed empty of all but the three of them. Sam was consumed by Jessica.

Only when Jim addressed him directly did Sam come back to the room. "Do you, Sam, take this woman to be your wedded wife?"

Sam spoke powerfully into the silence of the room. "I do."

"And do you, Jessica, take this man to be your wedded husband?"

"I do," Jessica said tearfully.

Her tears made Sam's spill down his own cheeks. He never imagined he would be so happy.

"Now it this time for you to exchange to vows you have written for each other," Jim said. "Sam?"

Sam blinked the tears out of his eyes and said. "Jessica, on this day, I give you my heart, my promise, that I will walk with you, hand in hand, wherever our journey leads us, living, learning, loving. Together. Forever."

Jessica sniffled and at Jim's prompt said, "Sam, I promise to encourage your compassion, because that is what makes you unique and wonderful. I promise to nurture your dreams, because through them your soul shines. I promise to help shoulder our challenges, for there is nothing we cannot face if we stand together. I promise to be your partner in all things. Lastly, I promise to you perfect love and perfect trust, for one lifetime with you could never be enough."

Sam rubbed a thumb over the back of Jessica's palm. He hadn't heard her vows before now as they'd written them as a surprise for each other, but he knew now that she couldn't have said anything more perfect to him.

"May I have the rings, please?" Jim asked. Dean and John stepped forward and placed them in his open palm. He handed one to Sam and said, "Please repeat after me. I give you this ring, as a daily reminder of my love for you."

Sam swallowed hard and spoke the vow as he slid the find onto her finger.

"And Jessica?"

She took the ring from him and spoke her vow in a voice constricted with emotion as she put it on his finger.

"Sam and Jessica, by the power of your love and commitment, and the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Sam, you may kiss your bride."

Sam bent to kiss her, feeling the wetness of her tears on her lips. When he pulled back, he heard the loud applause of the room and he stroked a hand over her cheek. "Thank you, Jess."

"I love you," she answered simply.

And that was it. They were married.

Life was good.

* * *

John was dancing with Jessica in his arms in the middle of the room. Bill and Ellen danced beside them, and Caleb and Sarah swayed at a much slower pace than the music allowed. John thought perhaps there was something more there than Caleb had confessed already. Daryll, Scott, Ava and Laura were talking with Dean at a table. Only Andy was missing from their number. He hadn't been able to come. John thought it would be a long time before Andy could allow himself to enjoy anything like this level of joy in a place.

John's eyes drifted to his youngest son and saw he was dancing with Sarah's daughter, Sophie. She was standing on his toes and he was making slow circular moments. John thought he looked tired. He should be resting as he was still healing, but John could not interrupt his perfect day to advise him.

Jessica saw where his eyes were and she said, "He knows his limits. You don't need to worry. He'll be fine."

"I know," John said. "I should have believed you before."

"Yes, you should," she agreed, her smile taking any edge from her words. "I know my husband."

"Husband," John said wonderingly.

"Yes," she said happily. "And you're a father-in-law."

John huffed a laugh. "Wow. I never thought I would be that to anyone. I have a daughter."

"I'll do my best to live up to the title."

"You already have," John said. "I could have chosen no one better to join our family than you. You're everything he needs and everything Mary and I could have hoped for him to have."

Jessica blushed. "Thank you, John."

"I mean it," he said. "I know she would have loved you, too."

Jessica glanced at Sam and Sophie and asked, "What are you and Dean going to do now that it's over?"

"Keep hunting," he said. "Dean would never be able to rest doing anything else, knowing there are people needing to be saved out there. I don't think I can stop now either. There is still evil out there and people need to be protected. Don't worry, though, we'll be sure to make it to California as often as we can."

"We'll hold you to that," Jessica said. "Sam needs you both in his life as much as he can have."

"He's been through a lot," John agreed.

"He has, but that's not what I mean. He lived a lie for eighteen years and he has found his real family again. He loves you both enough to die for you, to let himself die to save you making a deal." She nodded. "Ava told me. I agree with his choice. I never want to lose him, and I am so happy that he is healing, but I know he wouldn't have been able to live with himself if either of you had made a deal for him. That would have destroyed him more totally than his own death."

John swallowed hard as she stretched up and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you though," she said.

John held her against him. "Thank you, Jess," he whispered.

When she pulled back John noticed that Dean was beside them. "Do I get a dance with my little sister?" he asked.

John was sure that he did want to dance, but more than that he thought Dean was seeing that he needed a break, too. He was feeling overwhelmed and needed just a moment to gather himself.

John held Jessica's hand out to Dean and said, "Go ahead."

Dean swept Jessica off and John watched her laugh as he said something.

His eyes moved from them to Sam and Sophie, and he saw the little girl's delight as Sam moved her across the room.

His family was safe, the demon and Shtriga were dead, their family was complete and happy together.

Life was good.

* * *

Jessica and Sam were in the back of their wedding car, on the way to the hotel her parents had arranged for them. Sam seemed pensive, running a hand up and down her arm as she sat curled against him.

"It's been a good day," she said.

Sam kissed her hair. "It's been perfect. Oh!" He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a glossy piece of paper. "I forgot to give you this."

Jessica sat up and took the proffered paper. She turned it over and looked at the photograph. It was a car, a Mustang, and it looked in serious disrepair.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Your wedding present, Mrs. Winchester. It's a wreck right now, but Dean and John are helping me restore it." He chuckled. "Well, I say helping. I pretty much pass them tools and try to keep up. We're going to move it closer to home so we can work on it when they're in town."

She looked at the picture again and her eyes widened. "Sam! That's a Mach 1!"

"Yep. A '69 model. That's good, right?"

"It's incredible," she said. "How did you find it?"

"A lot of searching on Bobby's part. He really came through for us. I wanted it ready before the wedding, but… you know."

"You got stabbed," she said.

"I got stabbed," he agreed.

"I love it," she said. "And I love you. More than anything."

"I love you, too." Sam pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I always will."

Jessica curled into his side again and smiled against his chest. She didn't think she had ever been so happy and at peace. She had the man she loved, she would soon have law school, she had a future to share and adventures to be explored.

Life was perfect.

* * *

 **So… This is where it ends. If this had been edited on paper, it would have been tear stained. Luckily, I did it at the computer with a handy box of Kleenex.**

 **This story has been a journey that challenged me immensely. The original idea of Sam being kidnapped came from a random show I was watching on TV. I went to Gredelina1 with the idea, and she encouraged me—as she always does—and the outline for these stories were born. I was lucky that canon gave me the perfect point for the story to start with the Shtriga's appearance.**

 **Thank you all for coming on this journey me. I am sad that it's over, as I have immense love for the Sam and Dean, Jessica and John that I created for this story. It is over though. To continue in any form would be to take away what I have given them with this ending. It feels complete to me, and I hope it does to you, too.**

 **Until the next story…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


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